Guarded Hearts
by Terpsichore92
Summary: Gustave Daae's new job as District Attorney has painted a target on Christine's back for anyone wishing to keep her father from prosecuting them. Erik gets hired to guard her, never expecting he'd have to guard her from stealing his heart, Leroux/Modern/EC.
1. Chapter 1

**Guarded Hearts**

This story was started several years ago and has laid untouched for a full seventeen months, much to my utter mortification and shame. I have no excuse other than I am a terrible person and have let my busy reality distract me from the far more important false reality I have created in this story. Either way, in an attempt to finally spur my muse on now that I have the free time ahead of me to continue with this story, I have gone back and made several edits to all of the chapters posted so far. Nothing drastic, so there is no need to re-read if you are already caught up with the story, but there are slight tweaks in all of the chapters that make me feel much more comfortable with my work, as it seems my writing style has shifted a bit in the year of my abscence. Anyway, enough of my rambling. Read and enjoy.

The first coherent thought that registered in Christine's mind as she woke up was that she was going to brutally murder whatever fiend _dared_ to call her at four o'clock in the morning. However, as her eyes slowly managed to focus on the glowing digits of her alarm clock, which revealed that it was, in fact, eight in the morning, she decided murder might be a bit extreme and settled for simply punching whoever it was once or twice in the face the next time she saw them, instead. So, still aggravated but no longer seething in fury, she fumbled for the plastic device shrilling loudly in her ear.

"What do you want, Meg?" she snapped, not even bothering to check the caller ID.

"Well someone sure is cheerful today!" her obnoxiously perky best friend greeted happily.

Christine rolled her still-bleary eyes. "'M not cheerful 'till noon… Call back later 'n' I'll be a ray of sunshine."

Meg's happy chuckle gave Christine the overwhelming urge to shout random obscenities and hang up on her, but she managed to ignore it and straightened up a little in her bed.

"Come on, wake up already! Don't you want time to make coffee this morning before your big meeting?"

"Mmm… Caffeine…" Christine muttered wistfully, rubbing her eyes in a vain attempt to make everything around her focus. "Wait… What meeting?"

"Chris! You're meeting that guy from the security agency today! Don't you remember?"

Christine attempted to locate that information through the thick, sleep-induced fog that still clouded her brain, then winced and released a resigned sigh once everything had managed to register. "Oh… I'd forgotten about that."

"Clearly."

"Ugh… Don't you think this is all just a bit over the top?" she huffed, pulling the covers back and stepping reluctantly out of her bed.

"Chris, come on! Your dad is a famous attorney who's made it his goal in life to clear the incredibly corrupt city we live in of crime. He's pissed off a lotof _really_ scary people. Add that to the fact that several of them have made threats on your life-"

"Which they haven't actually acted out-"

"-and I'd say that's plenty of reason to need protection from a security agency," Meg finished, as if she hadn't been interrupted.

Christine sighed. "Fine, fine… I guess you're right. And I really don't mind them setting up security equipment around my house, but giving me a professional bodyguard? _Really_?"

Meg chuckled. "Hey, what if he's cute? Having some guy follow you around everywhere might not be so bad…"

Christine tapped a finger against her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm… When you put it that way… I suppose I'll be okay with this for a while, but only because Daddy's insisting."

"Good girl. Now run off and get ready so you can look sexy for your bodyguard."

"Yes ma'am," Christine acquiesced with a chuckle. "Bye, Meg!"

"Good luck!"

Christine smiled, hanging up the phone and tossing it carelessly onto her bed. With a final stretch, she stumbled into the bathroom to brush her teeth and change. After washing her face and donning a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, she was satisfied that she wouldn't make a bad impression on whoever came to meet with her that day and quickly bounded out of the bathroom and into her kitchen to make a cup of her beloved coffee. As she sat waiting for it to brew, her mind began to ponder the situation she was currently in.

Despite the blasé attitude she took with Meg, Christine was truly frightened of the way her life was going. Her father had recently been elected as District Attorney for their city, and he was focusing all his effort into reducing the astronomical crime rate in the area. This was a valiant attempt on his part, and Christine respected him immensely for everything that he was trying to do, but it had made him the enemy of many powerful criminals. The area in which Christine and her father had taken residence had been subject to rule by corrupt politicians for a number of years, which had made it something like a haven for big time drug lords and organized crime. The ease with which the authorities were bribed allowed these criminals to settle in quite comfortably and go about their business with next to no opposition. The people of the city, though, were becoming fed up with the violence and crime spreading unchecked through their home, and the recent election had brought about drastic changes in the government.

Gustave, along with the mayor and several other important government officials, had immediately begun a campaign to bring law and order back to their city, and this campaign was gaining a significant amount of attention… particularly from the criminals whose domain had suddenly been threatened. This attention was something that did not bode well for either Gustave or Christine. It was no secret that the elder Daaé adored his only daughter, and already several people had made threats concerning Christine in an effort to dissuade Gustave from taking action against them.

Not wanting to back off his attempts, but unwilling to leave Christine in any danger, Gustave had quickly made arrangements with a professional security agency which had seen fit to equip her with a personal bodyguard, who was currently on his way to meet with her… and move in.

Not only was the guard meant to accompany her to all of her classes as well as out around town, he was also instructed to stay in her apartment and guard her at night. Then again, Christine had been looking for a room-mate ever since Meg moved in with her boyfriend. Why bother with two separate things when you could just get a bodyguard/room-mate combo? Hmm, maybe he cleaned house as well…

Still, the thought of a complete stranger coming to live with her made Christine slightly jumpy, which might explain why she almost dropped her coffee cup at the sound of the buzzer going off.

"Who is it?" she asked casually, trying to ignore the scalding pain on her hand where she had spilled coffee on it.

"Your bodyguard," a man replied, his voice garbled and full of static due to the building's ancient intercom system which had long been in need of repair.

Christine stared warily at the intercom for a full minute before finally muttering a reply and buzzing him in reluctantly. As she stood by the doorway, waiting on him to reach the apartment, she tried to recall all she had heard about her new bodyguard from the man she had spoken to at the agency.

"_Mr. Draven is… unique,"_ she recalled the man, Nadir, she believed he had called himself, explaining in a lightly accented voice. _"He's led a very challenging life, and his experiences have left him with a rather cynical view on society. He tends to be very cold and brusque, and he has quite a temper, but when it comes to your safety there's no one I would trust more to guard you."_

The light knock from her doorway jolted her from her thoughts, and, apprehensively, she pulled the door open. It took all of her willpower not to jump back in shock at what she saw.

_Mr. Draven is unique…_ This line sprang instantly to her mind as she surveyed the imposing figure placed before her. He was extremely tall, probably about six foot four, and stood perfectly erect and still, not even a finger twitching as Christine inspected him. He was quite thin, but a bit too fit to be considered scrawny, with taut and sinewy muscles well-defined even under his clothing. His skin had an almost sickly pallor to it, though his powerful demeanor gave no hint at illness, and contrasted sharply with his inky black hair and dark attire. A black leather mask covered his face, leaving only his thin lips and strong jaw open for inspection, though the contours of the mask hinted at sharp, angular cheek-bones and a straight, aristocratic nose. What stood out to Christine the most, however, more so than even the mask, were his eyes. Deep, molten pools of gold gleaming from within the shadows of the mask, they viewed Christine intensely with a predatory gaze that intrigued and terrified her all at once.

_Unique? Understatement of the century…_

"I… umm… Hi," Christine stuttered after what she realized was entirely too long of a pause.

A slight incline of his head was the only response he gave.

"Err… Come on in!" she called, shuffling awkwardly away from the door as she watched him effortlessly lift the hulking suitcase from beside him and enter her apartment. He moved with a lithe, cat-like grace that gave his actions a decidedly predatory edge, causing Christine to gulp inaudibly. _If my bodyguard decides to turn on me… Who protects me from him? _she thought wryly as she shut the door behind him.

They stood in uncomfortable silence for several moments before Christine finally gathered the courage to speak.

"So, since you're going to be living here and all, I suppose you might like a tour?"

He raised one shoulder slightly in a gesture of indifference, not a single emotion flickering across his masked features.

"Right… I thought you might," she muttered, plastering a fake smile to her face to cover her unease. "Okay, well, this is obviously the living room, where you'll do all of your living. Temporary death is required when using any other rooms."

His icy glare actually gave her chills. Christine quickly shook them off and continued on.

"And this is the kitchen! I'm a big fan of junk-food, but we've also got enough groceries in here to cook a decent meal every now and then, so hopefully you won't starve." Briefly she showed him where the food and utensils were stored, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling she got as his intense eyes bored into her, never once showing an ounce of emotion.

Finishing with the kitchen, she then led him down a narrow hallway, pointing to the first door on the right. "This is the bathroom. It's the only one in the apartment, so you'll have to share with me. I apologize in advance… I'm sure sharing a bathroom with an extremely disorganized girl wasn't exactly part of the job description when you signed on as a bodyguard, but I'll attempt to keep all feminine products hidden for your comfort."

Was that a smile that flickered across his face, or did his lips just twitch?

She opened the door across the hall from the bathroom to reveal a large room, three of its four walls solidly covered in shelves overflowing with books. A large, fraying, overstuffed armchair sat in one corner, and in another stood a large grand piano with various sheets of music strewn across it.

"This is my favorite room in the whole apartment," Christine explained with a soft smile.

"You play?" the bodyguard asked softly, a hint of surprise coloring his voice with the first emotion she had witnessed from him and his golden eyes surveying the piano with undisguised hunger.

It was the first time he'd spoken since he got there, and Christine couldn't help the gasp that escaped her lips at the sound. His voice was incredible… Rich, deep, and melodic, with a hint of an animalistic growl which somehow seemed to add to its sensual quality, it was enough to send shivers coursing down her spine from just those two words.

Shaking off her surprise at his voice, she gained enough presence of mind to answer the question. "Huh? Oh… Well, not exactly. The piano was actually a gift to my father. We're both musicians, but he plays the violin and I sing. We usually just use the piano for tuning, and when I moved out he brought it to my apartment to help with my vocal exercises," she explained sheepishly.

The bodyguard gave no audible response, but Christine could guess by the hard set of his lips that he felt their usage of such an instrument was a waste.

"I take it you're a musician as well?"

He gave a slight nod, his gaze never flickering from the piano.

"Well, feel free to use anything in this room whenever you like."

Instantly his eyes were centered on her, and, though she couldn't really tell due to the mask, she pictured one of his eyebrows raised in question.

"Well, considering you're going to be living here for a while, it's only right to give you free reign over anything you want in the apartment. Just stay out of my dark chocolate stash and we'll have no problems."

A hint of a smirk seemed to play across his face, but disappeared before she could really tell.

After standing in yet a few more moments of awkward silence, Christine finally led him down the hallway to the last two rooms in the apartment.

"That's your room," she announced, pointing towards the room on the right side of the hall. "I'll leave you alone and let you get settled in. My first class isn't until ten, so you've got a while to get unpacked. Just call if you need anything, I'm right across the hall here," and with a final, uncomfortable smile, she turned and bounded into her room.

Erik watched her surreptitiously as she left before turning back to his room and opening the door. The room, though rather small, was lacking the bland that were generally found in guest rooms. In fact, far from being bland, the room was decorated with an intensely contrasting color scheme of jet black and stark white.

Erik stared in open astonishment, his eyes taking in the new carpet, silk sheets, and thick black curtains blocking any sunlight from entering the room. He surveyed everything in surprised amusement, wondering how on Earth she had found out enough about him to decorate the room as well as she had, or why she would go to the trouble of doing so for a complete stranger. He turned around to thank her, but she had already shut the door to her bedroom, and at that moment he heard David Bowie start blaring from her stereo. At this, he felt an uninvited smirk pull across his lips.

He was about to begin unpacking when his cell-phone rang. Glancing briefly at the caller ID, he flipped the offending device open and propped it against his ear.

"Khan," he greeted curtly as he unzipped his suitcase.

"Draven," Nadir shot back in a slightly mocking tone. Erik rolled his eyes and refrained from responding. "I was just calling to check in and see how things were going with your assignment so far."

"Well, considering I just arrived at the girl's apartment a little over three minutes ago, I don't have much to report. Check back in a month."

"Oh come now, Erik. Three minutes should be more than enough for you. You've never met a person whom you couldn't find at least ten reasons to hate within a single meeting. I can't imagine now would be any different."

"You couldn't have at least waited an hour before starting to harass me?" Erik responded dryly, not deeming the man's previous statement worth commenting upon.

"Humor me, here. I'm extremely curious," Nadir entreated, Erik's surly attitude only seeming to amuse him more.

"Curiosity killed the cat, you know."

"Did it?" He chuckled. "Well, that's all well and good for the cat, but most of the boys at the agency have their money on the infamous Phantom and one of his temper tantrums being the cause of my demise, and I can't find it in me to argue with them."

"Wise man…" Erik murmured, fighting back a grin. "And for the record, I have incoherent rages, not temper tantrums," he stated archly. "I am an emotionally troubled artist, not a damned toddler, Daroga!"

There was a silence as Nadir seemed to ponder this. "I'm sorry, Erik, but I'm failing to see a difference here."

"So, are you trying to speed along our coworkers' pay offs on this bet, or have you just decided life isn't worth the effort anymore?" he retorted menacingly.

"Are you _threatening _me, Erik? I am utterly shocked!"

Erik's eyebrows raised in surprise. "Are you?"

"Yes! It took me a good four or five jabs at you before you ever mentioned bodily harm! You're going soft."

"Hardly," Erik scoffed, his voice hard despite the amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Now state your purpose and be done with it, you insufferable man, so I can go about my business."

"I thought I already had. I wanted to know how things were going so far!"

Deciding to get to the point in the hope that Nadir would leave him alone, Erik released a sigh. "They're going fine."

"Well, what's this Christine like? I'm dying to know."

"She's… tolerable," Erik admitted after a pause.

"Oh? And what exactly qualifies as tolerable? Is she anything like you were expecting?"

The bodyguard growled slightly in annoyance at his pushy friend. "Not really, no."

"So she's not a whiny, spoiled, materialistic little girl with a much too elevated opinion of herself simply because of her Daddy's accomplishments, who automatically despises you due to your facial accessories?" he asked with a hint of a smile in his tone.

"Surprisingly, no."

"Well, what is she, then?"

Erik glanced around thoughtfully, listening to the muted strains of "Rebel, Rebel" seeping from her room and eyeing the décor inside his own. "I'm not entirely sure."

"Ah, so we're being vague about this, then? Well… how did she react when she met you?"

"Like most people react when they first meet me, she seemed positively eager to get away," Erik explained cynically. "She did, however, at least make an attempt at being civil, and she gave me a tour of her apartment."

"Oh yeah, what's it like?"

He sighed, wishing his exasperating friend would just lose interest and let the subject drop. "It's… small, which was a surprise."

"True, anyone with enough money to hire you on should be able to afford a Penthouse."

"Nadir…" Erik growled in a warning tone.

"Sorry, sorry. Continue, please."

"It's rather typical… Living room, kitchen… I have to share a bathroom with her, by the way."

"Well that should be fun."

"She has a library," Erik continued as if he hadn't been interrupted, "albeit a rather small one, and there's a piano in there. She said it was her favorite room."

"Hmm… So she's musical and literate. Sounds like you're going to have a miserable time over there," Nadir joked lightly. "Anything else?"

Erik paused. "She decorated my room for me," he finally stated, his voice faintly tinged with some indefinable emotion.

Nadir grinned smugly to himself. "Ah, now that one I knew. I gave her a few designer tips."

"How very generous of you…"

"Well, what can I say? I'm a step away from sainthood!"

Erik snorted lightly to himself at his friend's fake egotism. "I'm going to finish unpacking now. Goodbye."

"Bye, Erik. Good luck on your first day."

Erik felt an irrational surge of anger at that statement which caused him to respond in a scathing voice. "Please, Nadir… Luck has never been kind to me. If anything goes right in my life, it is because I have fought for it tooth and nail, despite Fate's best efforts to destroy me. I stopped hoping long ago for anything good to just fall into my lap," he muttered darkly before promptly hanging up. After running a hand across the contours of his mask and giving a melancholy sigh, he set his phone down on the nightstand and began the tedious process of unpacking.

Once he finally had the room set up to his satisfaction, he glanced down at his watch. Nine-thirty. Christine should be leaving for her class soon. Giving a final glance around the room, he pulled on his black, floor-length duster, his hand instinctively slipping inside its pocket to feel for the reassuring coil of rope resting there, and stepped into the living room to wait for her.

As he entered the room, his hand shot up reflexively to catch the couch cushion hurtling towards his face. Holding the cushion up warily as a shield, he peered around it and raised an eyebrow at the sight of Christine tearing frantically through her living room.

"Dammit… Dammit… Damn, damn, damn!" she shouted as she continued to rip apart her furniture. "I swore I wouldn't be late this week!" she muttered under her breath, apparently oblivious to Erik's presence. "Ergh… Stupid defective memory… I know I had it out last night, so what did I do with it?" She moved her search from the couch to the kitchen, scouring the table, cabinets, and even the refrigerator. Erik had to bite back a laugh when he noticed she was only wearing one shoe. "Agh! Where the _hell _is my theory book?" she shrieked in frustration, slamming the dishwasher shut and stomping back into the living room.

She froze in surprise as she was met by a stone-faced Erik silently holding a music theory textbook in front of him.

"Oh. Um… thanks!" she exclaimed awkwardly, taking the book from him. "Well, let's head to class then," she stated as she shoved the textbook into her bag and headed towards the door.

Erik stood where he was and shot her a questioning look, glancing pointedly towards her one bare foot.

Christine noticed his actions and blinked in confusion for a second before following his gaze. "Oh!" A blush quickly worked its way up her cheeks. "Yeah… the other shoe might help…" She glanced around, attempting to locate said object, but saw no trace of it in sight. "On the other hand, symmetry is highly overrated these days…"

Not sure whether to be amused or frustrated with the scattered girl, Erik quietly stalked to her television and pulled the elusive shoe off the top of it.

"Oh… Right… That's where I put it… Thanks again!" she exclaimed with false brightness, hopping on one foot as she slid the other shoe on and then turning towards the door. "Shall we, then?"

"After you," Erik murmured, holding the door open for her.

Christine flashed him a startled smile for his chivalry and made her way out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Guarded Hearts**

_All characters are property of Gaston Leroux and Susan Kay_

Thanks so much for all of the incredible feedback I've been getting! It makes me incredibly happy! Also, a huge thanks to Goth Angel UK for beta-ing this chapter, and hopefully all other chapters from now on! Also, to clear up some confusion expressed in a review, Christine is 23, and Erik is 34.

Several hours later found Erik crouched in the air vents above Christine's classroom, studying her with interest through the slits. He had decided, with the convoluted logic of one who had spent his entire life attempting to hide from the prying eyes of society, that the vents would be the safest and most unobtrusive place to guard her from during the school day. Because of this, he had set to obtaining a copy of her schedule and a detailed map of the ventilation system almost immediately after receiving his assignment. On top of his dislike of public places, hiding out was also a form of courtesy for him, having assumed that the girl would feel much more comfortable without a menacing, masked bodyguard hovering over her shoulder all day.

Even before reaching the college, Erik had used his lifetime of practice in trying to become invisible, using the shadows cast by various buildings and the distracting bustle of people in order to melt out of sight on the busy city street as he escorted Christine to school. He couldn't help but smirk as he recalled her initial vexation upon leaving her apartment and realizing that he was nowhere to be found. He'd had to step out of the shadows he'd hidden himself in and assure her that, though he wouldn't always be visible, he would always keep her in his sight, before she would agree to continue on to class. Even now he could see her gaze scouring the corners of the classroom every so often in search of him and had to suppress a chuckle. Curious thing, wasn't she?

To be honest, Erik wasn't sure how he felt about his newest client. In his current line of work, he'd become accustomed to guarding anything from overweight businessmen and politicians to drugged-out rock stars and actors, but the bright, disorganized, vivacious twenty-three year old wasn't exactly someone he knew how to handle. Honestly, if the girl's father hadn't been offering such a substantial sum of money for a fairly simple job, Erik doubted that he would have accepted. As it was, he had just decided to go for it and hope his time in her company wasn't too uncomfortable, for either of them.

His attention shifted back to the classroom as he heard someone start playing a melody on the piano in the center of the room. He'd almost forgotten that his new ward was majoring in vocal performance. He watched with interest as one of the students took their place at the front of the class and began to sing. Erik found himself silently compiling a list of critiques to give to the boy who, though obviously possessing talent, had a habit of breathing in awkward parts of the phrase, along with several other noticeable flaws. When he finished his piece, the student gratefully acknowledged the polite applause of his classmates, accepted a critique sheet from the vocal instructor, and returned to his seat, the girl beside him rising to take his place. It would appear he had caught the class on some sort of evaluation day, and all of the students were taking a turn at performing.

The class continued in this manner for some time, completely unaware of their hidden judge, and Erik watched with mild interest as Christine was called to replace the girl who'd been far too enthusiastic with her use of vibrato. He made several notes on her posture before she ever sang a note, noting how she held her shoulders far too stiffly and tilted her chin at an awkward angle, which kept her neck constricted when it should have been free and open to…

Erik felt all his judgments instantly fly out of his head as soon as she opened her mouth to sing. Never in his life had he heard anything like the pure, sweet, crystalline tones of her voice. If he had ever tried to imagine how an angel would have sounded as they sang, her voice would have been what he'd heard. Several flaws in her technique and phrasing were noticeable, but did little to detract from the achingly beautiful tone.

_God… How it would feel to sing with her_...Erik thought longingly, but he immediately pushed the idea from his mind. He was around simply to protect this girl, not to discuss and create music with her. He had always made it a point to stay distant and strictly professional with all of his clients… and workmates… and acquaintances… and, well, basically anyone except Nadir, for that matter. Erik was not exactly a sociable man, for obvious reasons, and despite his quick wit and keen intelligence he usually had difficulties interacting with others, and had generally found that it proved more effort than it was worth to attempt to befriend someone. He doubted things with this girl would be any different…

ECECECECECECECEC

Christine had barely taken three steps out of the dressing room and into the dance studio for her ballet class when Meg pounced on her. Having already changed into a simple leotard and a pair of shorts, with her mahogany hair bound out of her eyes, the girl wasted no time in dragging Christine beside her against the bar to commence their stretching.

"Well?" she asked, her moss-green eyes peering into Christine's own sapphire ones excitedly.

Christine blinked, straightening her calf-length leggings and practice skirt. "Well what?"

"Your new bodyguard!" Meg exclaimed exasperatedly, placing her leg atop the bar and bending over it to stretch out her thigh and calf muscles. "What's he like?"

Christine glanced around warily as she copied Meg's action, but didn't catch even the slightest glimpse of her elusive bodyguard. Praying that he was far enough away to be out of earshot, she switched legs and focused her attention back on her impatient friend. "Well, to be honest… He's scary."

Meg shrugged her shoulders unconcernedly. "Well that's good, I suppose. You wouldn't want a non-threatening bodyguard, right? I mean, some sweet little guy walking up to your attackers and saying, 'Hey, fellas, please don't hurt the lady or I'll be awfully upset,' wouldn't do you a whole lot of good, would it?"

Christine laughed and shook her head good-naturedly. "No, I suppose not, but this goes a bit beyond simply intimidating. The man is, for lack of a better word, completely terrifying."

"Yeah? How so?" Meg asked, surveying her with interest.

"He just has this presence, you know? Like you look at him and instantly know that, if he wanted to, he could kill you with a snap of his fingers. He barely speaks and doesn't seem to have any emotions, and he's disturbingly silent and graceful when he moves and can completely disappear in broad daylight," she explained in a rush, her eyes once again darting around the expanse of the studio. "I haven't actually _seen _him since we left the apartment this morning, but I know he's in here somewhere."

This instantly got Meg's attention, and her head snapped up to join Christine in her futile search. "Right, I can see how that might come across as terrifying… So what does he look like?" Instantly the girlish excitement returned to her eyes.

Christine rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her friend's eagerness. Nothing to catch Meg's attention like the prospect of a cute guy… "Really tall, pale skin, jet black hair that barely touches his shoulders… He's strong, but in a sort of elegant way, not bulky… Kind of like a greyhound, I guess. And he's got these amazing golden eyes… Like, literally golden, not just goldish-brown. They're rather breathtaking."

Meg surveyed Christine's pensive look curiously and cocked an eyebrow. "Scary presence and uncanny hiding ability sound pretty minor in context… I'm failing to see a problem here."

"He dressed all in black and looked like someone straight out of The Matrix," Christine continued, an arch look her only response to Meg's comment. "Boots, gloves, button-up shirt, floor-length coat, and a mask."

"A mask?" Meg interrupted, her eyes widening in surprise.

Christine nodded. "It was made of this really hard leather and molded to his face. The only parts it didn't cover were his jaw and mouth. Honestly he looked like some kind of villain out of a comic book or something… I mean, it was cool as hell, but still completely…"

"Terrifying?" Meg finished wryly, shooting her friend a cheeky grin.

"Terrifying," Christine agreed with a smirk.

Before either of them could say anything else, their dance instructor made her way to the center of the floor and gestured for them to gather around. Shooting Meg one last grin, Christine quickly took her place and prepared for class.


	3. Chapter 3

**Guarded Hearts**

_All recognizable characters are property of Gaston Leroux and Susan Kay._

Thanks to Goth Angel UK for betaing! Hope you enjoy! Please review? Please?

Edited to fix a couple of problems that my wonderful beta pointed out to me.

As Christine made her way up the five flights of steps to her apartment, she began to wonder if Mr. Draven had actually been with her all day, or if he had simply flaked out and ran off to spend the day doing… whatever it was he did for fun. Aside from the one time she'd forced him to show himself to her that morning, she hadn't seen or heard even the faintest hint of his presence. She was understandably shocked, then, when she rounded the corner leading to her apartment door and found Erik standing in front of her, holding the door open. She froze in place and narrowed her eyes at him.

"I haven't even given you your key yet," she remarked suspiciously, eyeing the door that she was positive she had locked upon leaving.

Erik's only response was to tilt his head to the side and smirk as he gestured her forwards with a gentlemanly sweep of his arm.

"Right… Not even gonna ask," she muttered as she stepped past him into the apartment. "I'm seriously glad you're supposed to be guarding me, because otherwise this would all be pretty creepy."

"Just creepy?" Erik remarked sardonically as he followed her in. "You wound me, Mademoiselle Daaé. Whatever happened to '_completely terrifying_'?"

Christine flushed brightly and cursed under her breath. There went her speculations that he'd abandoned her during the day.

Erik grinned at her reaction but couldn't keep from wondering what had possessed him to tease her.

"Sorry if I offended you with my description, Mr. Draven, but that's the price you pay for eavesdropping, I suppose," she remarked lightly as she strolled into the kitchen to get a snack.

"On the contrary, mademoiselle, I found it oddly flattering," he admitted. It was true, he had found it strangely pleasing to hear himself being described without the words 'hideous,' 'demonic,' and 'freak-of-nature' being thrown around. Also, he prided himself on his intimidating presence, and felt rather smug that she had reacted so strongly to it. And what she had said about his eyes…

Erik was distracted from his train of thought as a soft mewing sounded from the hallway, and he turned to see a beautiful Persian cat pawing silently into the kitchen.

"There you are, Ayesha!" Christine exclaimed happily as the cat wound itself around her legs. "I was wondering where you were hiding."

Erik crouched down wordlessly and held his hand out to the purring feline, who simply eyed him suspiciously through cold blue eyes.

"It's no use, Mr. Draven, she hates men," Christine explained apologetically. "Not entirely sure why, but she refuses to go near any guys who visit the apartment."

Erik didn't respond to her and continued to hold his hand out. After a second, Ayesha stepped tentatively toward it, sniffed at it, then boldly stalked forward and began rubbing her head underneath Erik's palm, purring contentedly as he scratched her ears.

Christine stared in open-mouthed astonishment, nearly dropping the can of Pringles she was holding.

"You were saying, mademoiselle?" he asked calmly, glancing up at her with false innocence.

Christine narrowed her eyes at him for a moment before her face suddenly relaxed into a warm smile.

Erik instantly felt the breath catch in his throat.

Christine was a pretty girl. He had noticed this as soon as he saw her, but thought nothing of it. After all, pretty college girls weren't exactly in short supply, and Erik had never bothered to take much notice of what he knew he could never have. She was tall but fairly slim, with a lithe dancer's frame that still possessed pleasant curves, and her features were symmetrical and well arranged, giving her a sort of classic, though subtle, beauty, but overall nothing was particularly striking about her.

Now, however, as he suddenly took notice of how her golden hair cascaded down her shoulders in loose waves and her sapphire eyes sparkled brightly with mirth, he couldn't help but stare. Before, she had been merely pretty, but now, with her full lips twisted up into a radiant grin, completely free of coyness or guile and reflecting only amusement and an unburdened happiness Erik had never before witnessed… Now she was stunning.

_I'm in serious trouble… _Erik thought darkly as he finally managed to tear his eyes away from her. _First her voice, now her smile… _Merde_, what is _wrong _with me?_

"I stand corrected," Christine commented jokingly, crossing her arms and continuing to smile, entirely unaware of the effect it was having on him. "Though I am starting to wonder if you're entirely human, Mr. Draven… You don't seem to follow the typical criteria of what we're physically capable of doing… Are you some kind of a superhero?"

Erik, filled with a sudden surge of self-loathing at the frighteningly strong response her smile had caused in him, had to fight the urge to sneer at that. "Oh no, Mademoiselle Daaé, I assure you that you were much closer to describing me when you compared me to a villain," he stated cynically, causing her to raise her eyebrows.

"Well then, Villain, I suppose it's rather lucky that I'm paying you to be on my side, is it not?"

"Well, that would entirely depend upon how much influence your money holds over my villainous nature…" Erik countered, his lips twisting in a rapacious imitation of a grin.

Christine was surprised at the effect that crooked, predatory smile had on her hormones. "And exactly how much influence _does _my money have over your villainous nature, Mr. Draven?" she asked coyly, tilting her head to the side and popping a chip into her mouth. "Won't you tell me?"

As accustomed as he was to the mercurial nature of his temperament, Erik was still surprised to feel the anger and self-hatred coursing through him fade suddenly, being replaced by an almost giddy excitement at the playful, natural way he was interacting with this woman. "Oh come now, Mademoiselle, where would be the fun in that?" His bold response was shocking even to himself. Was he… Damn it, was he _flirting _with her?

Christine giggled lightly and shrugged in acquiescence. "Fair enough, Mr. Draven, but just be warned that my father made me take a lot of self-defense classes when I was younger. And while I _seriously _doubt that they'll do me much good in the long run, I have decent odds of at least getting one or two kicks in, preferably to your crotch. So _do_ let that factor into your considerations."

Erik raised an eyebrow and nodded approvingly. "Duly noted."

"Glad to hear it," Christine grinned playfully at him as she vaulted across the back of her couch, sat down, and started pulling books out of her backpack. Erik, seeing that she was about to begin studying, quickly retreated to his bedroom so as not to disturb her.

He collapsed atop his bed and rested a forearm over his eyes, wondering what on Earth had happened to the strictly professional, emotionally aloof front he presented to everyone he knew. Within hours of meeting this girl she'd already managed to crack it and have him laughing and… dare he say it? Flirting with her.

Of course, he realized cynically, it obviously wasn't flirting on her end, seeing as one simply doesn't flirt with a 'terrifying' masked freak. He, however, was quite certain that's what he had been attempting to do with her, and was once again filled with self-loathing at the thought. Was it not enough that she had to be locked in an apartment with him and have him stalk her everywhere she went? He didn't need to make his presence around her any more trying than it had to be, and his unwanted overtures were sure to offend her if she recognized them for what they were.

He resolved that night not to allow anymore lapses in his self-control. He would remain cold and professional, as always, despite her polite attempts at conversation. He did not need her giving him her company out of pity.


	4. Chapter 4

**Guarded Hearts**

Christine twisted fitfully in her sleep, mumbling incoherently under her breath as she interacted with whatever scenario she had conjured into her dream before the sudden, piercing beep of her alarm clock jolted her harshly from her slumber.

"Stand your ground, men!" she yelped, her eyes flinging open as she bolted upright in her bed. The sudden movement from her precarious position on the edge of her bed caused her to tumble rather abruptly onto the floor.

"Good morning, world…" she muttered sarcastically, rubbing the back of her head ruefully as she sat up.

_Beep! Beep!_

Christine quickly slammed her hand against the offensive clock and sighed, standing up and pushing her disheveled hair out of her eyes. She hopped forward on one foot, stumbled slightly as she tried to detangle her other leg from the sheets that had decided to take it hostage, and promptly fell flat on her face.

"Bed Gives Christine a Concussion: Take Two. …Oh how I love mornings…"

After several failed attempts, she managed to rip the sheets from her leg and, with a frustrated cry, threw them violently at the wall, as violently as one could throw cotton, that is. The sheets, Christine noticed resentfully, seemed to suffer no ill effects from her wrath. Standing up cautiously and making sure that no other obstacles lay in her path, she finally made her way out of the bedroom.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted pleasantly towards her, and she blinked in lethargic surprise and confusion as she rounded the corner into the kitchen and noticed a cup of coffee and a plate of pancakes sitting on the counter in front of her. She turned around enquiringly and noticed for the first time Erik sitting at the table, sipping his own cup of coffee and reading the newspaper silently.

"Err… Thanks!" Christine offered hesitantly as she picked up her breakfast. Erik nodded wordlessly, not bothering to glance up from the paper. "It's not poisoned, is it?" she teased, sitting down across from him. He gave a silent shake of his head in response.

Christine was taken aback by his silence, having expected more of the playful banter from the night before. However, she quickly chalked it up to him not being a morning person either, and ate the rest of her meal in respectful silence. After finishing her pancakes, she thanked him again and quickly retreated to her bathroom to get ready for the day.

Erik watched her go surreptitiously, marveling at the fact that she managed to look attractive in a baggy t-shirt and boxers, with her hair hanging loose and tousled about her sleepy face.

She emerged back into the living room ten minutes later, clad in jeans and a fitted white t-shirt, her hair pulled back into a careless ponytail. Erik noted with slight amusement that she had managed to put both shoes on this time.

"Huh… Where'd my backpack go?" She glanced around the living room with a perplexed expression on her face. "I remember I had it by the couch to do my homework… Then I finished… And I put it… somewhere."

Erik felt disbelief flood him as she began to scour her living room in a repeat of the previous morning's desperate theory book search. She could not seriously be doing this again… how scattered _was_ this girl?

"Not here… Not here… Wouldn't fit between the couch cushions… Couldn't have reached that high… Aha!" she exclaimed finally as she spied her backpack hanging from a coat hanger in the closet. "Now, how the hell did it get there…?"

Apparently very scattered…

"Right, well, ready to go?" she asked, shouldering the pack and turning to glance at Erik. He stood wordlessly and stalked to the door, only to pause as Christine suddenly whirled around and surveyed her apartment. "Pointe shoes… Pointe shoes…"

With a sigh, Erik quickly retrieved them from the counter beside the refrigerator where she had placed them after getting a snack the night before.

"Pointe shoes! Thanks!" Christine called brightly, grabbing the shoes from him and shooting him a dazzling smile. "Now we can go."

Erik resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair in frustration as he followed her out. _And here we go again…_

ECECECECECEC

Air vents. It was a good theory, to be sure, but now that Erik had to actually spend all day crouched in the small, dusty tunnels, he was starting to rethink his decision.

"Update!"

His hand paused on its way to rub the ever-growing crick in his neck as he recognized the eager voice of the brunette who had accosted Christine for information the day before. He glanced through the slits in the vent, his gaze landing on the petite girl as she pranced towards Christine.

"Well hi, Meg! I'm doing fine, thanks for asking. And yourself?" Christine turned towards her impatient friend with a pleasant smile. Erik felt himself grin at her response.

"Sarcasm never suited you, Chris. Now stop joking around and tell me more about your bodyguard!"

This Meg certainly was interested in him, wasn't she?

"You are far too curious for your own good."

"Yes, yes, it's a curse…" Meg waved her hand dismissively. "But you've known that for years, so just get over it and _tell me _already!"

Christine paused in the pirouette she'd been practicing and glanced around the room suspiciously. "I'd… uh… rather not."

"Why not? Is he that bad?" she whispered, leaning closer with widening eyes.

_Yes, _Erik thought darkly, w_as I that bad?_

"No!" Christine exclaimed quickly, holding her hands up. "No, it's not that… I just, I don't…" she trailed off, her eyes taking another nervous sweep of the studio.

"Don't what?"

"Don't want to give an honest opinion while I'm lurking about?" Erik whispered, using his ventriloquism to carry the sound faintly past her ears. Christine jumped and whirled around, but saw nothing behind her save the mirrored walls of the studio.

"Chris? What are you staring at?"

"Huh?" Christine turned to meet Meg's gaze sheepishly. "Oh, uh, nothing. Never mind."

Meg gave her a look that said she clearly wasn't buying it.

"No, uh, actually Mr. Draven was kind of nice." Christine stated before Meg had a chance to question her further.

Erik narrowed his eyes. _Nice_? Never, in all his thirty-four years of life, had he ever been described as _nice_.

"Ayesha liked him."

Meg's dark green eyes widened in surprise. "But he has a penis!" she exclaimed, earning several strange looks from the other girls in their dance class. "She really liked him?"

Christine nodded and gave a little grin. "I think I do, too."

Erik felt a rush of surprise, which was instantly crushed out by cynical disbelief. She knew he was listening, so she was obviously just lying to be polite.

"So, what does his face look like?" Meg continued, immediately ripping Erik's attention back to their conversation.

"I have no idea. I already told you he wears a mask."

Meg furrowed her brow, puzzled. "Well, yeah, but I just figured that was some kind of bodyguard thing. Like maybe to protect his identity, or help him blend into the shadows better or something. I figured he'd have taken it off once he got back to the apartment."

Erik clenched his fists angrily. _What business of hers is _that_?_

Christine shook her head and shifted uncomfortably. "Um, no. He's had it on every time I've seen him so far. I think it's kind of a permanent thing…"

"Why? Is he like an escaped convict, or something? Or is there something wrong with his face?"

_Christine is right, _Erik thought threateningly, his hands drifting towards the Punjab lasso coiled in his pocket. _Meg is _far _too curious for her own good…_

Christine had alternately flushed in embarrassment and paled in fear, turning her face an interesting shade of pink. "I, um, I don't know. I didn't ask."

Meg shot her an incredulous look. "Why the hell not? Aren't you curious?"

"Of course she's curious," Erik hissed under his breath. "She's a shallow little girl who would just _love_ a chance to play detective and figure out what kind of horrors I'm hiding behind this thing. But _she_ at least seems to have a bit more tact than you."

"No, I'm not! Meg, can we just talk about all this some other time?" Christine practically begged.

"Yes. Some other time when you can speculate freely without fear of me overhearing and getting my delicate feelings hurt. As if I haven't heard it all before, you stupid girl…"

"Why, Chris? We're already here and-"

"Meg!" Christine snapped, turning around and glaring a warning at her startled friend

"All right, fine! Some other time…"

ECECECECECECECEC

Erik was waiting for Christine with the door held open for her again that evening, and she smiled gratefully as she passed him by. As soon as she had dropped her backpack by the door, she turned towards the stoic bodyguard and opened her mouth to comment in the hopes of initiating another conversation. Her mouth clamped shut instantly, however, as Erik wordlessly stalked past her and shut himself into the library.

"Well… That was nice," she snapped as she fixed a glare on the closed door. She was about to follow him in and question his anti-social behavior, when the most achingly beautiful sound she had ever heard soaked into the room and stopped her in her tracks.

Erik was playing her piano, coaxing out a haunting melody so intricate that it seemed impossible for just one person to produce it, for surely that was the work of more than just ten fingers… She was sure she had never heard anything quite as awe-inspiring… And then a flawless, ethereal voice wove itself into the song and immediately proved her wrong.

Christine was instantly spellbound, her eyes sliding shut in silent rapture as his voice wrapped around her in a velvet caress. It was unerringly rich and powerful, as well as incredibly versatile in range and timbre, and it commanded all of her attention from the first note he sang. Even in the short time she had been listening, it had slipped from silky, lilting, flawlessly smooth notes to something so harsh and snarling it could only be described as a melodic growl, and effortlessly back again within the space of one phrase. And she had already heard him sing within at least four octaves. She was more certain than ever now that there was _something _about Erik that was not entirely human, for no mortal being could ever have been gifted with such an incredible voice.

The song he played was like nothing she had ever heard. It was mournful and plaintive, but with a biting edge of darkness and resentment to it that caused a slight shiver to go down her spine, as if she could feel his gleaming golden eyes glaring into her back.

She stood utterly still, listening with equal parts of amazement and discomfort, until the song finally faded away to be replaced by something equally as impressive but no longer chillingly poignant, and when his voice did not join in with this one to push it a level up from incredibly impressive to sheer magic, Christine found that she could function again but had completely lost the desire to interrupt him in his playing.

"I'll just talk to him tomorrow…"

With the muttered assurance in place to console her for her cowardice, she sat on the couch and pulled a novel out of her purse, wrapping her arms around her knees to ward off a sudden chill.


	5. Chapter 5

**Guarded Hearts**

_All recognizable characters are property of Gaston Leroux or Susan Kay. And I don't own _The Crow _or _Rocky Horror Picture Show_._

I worked really hard on this chapter... So reviews would be VERY much appreciated

Two whole weeks had passed, and somehow Erik had managed to almost completely avoid any contact with Christine. He would make her breakfast every morning, but he refused to eat or converse with her while she consumed it. He would walk with her to the door, but as soon as she left the apartment he would melt into the shadows and disappear from sight, and Christine was too uncomfortable with the prospect of speaking to a disembodied voice to strike up much conversation with him.

During classes, she could tell he was around somewhere due to the nervous tingling that crawled up her spine every time he watched her, something akin to how she imagined an injured rabbit would feel when placed in front of the gaze of a hungry wolf. However, despite this increasingly familiar sensation, she could never quite tell where he hid in the room. His presence had made her very conscious of what she said to her friends, though, on the off chance that she had an invisible audience.

Every afternoon she arrived back at her apartment to find Erik waiting patiently with the door held open before him. He was always oddly chivalrous, despite his icy demeanor. As soon as she closed the door, though, he would instantly barricade himself in either the library or his bedroom or, as she had come to deem them in her mind, his room and that room with the bed he occasionally slept in. At least, she thought he slept. Erik was always awake and fully dressed by the time she got up, and he never went to bed before she was asleep, so she wasn't even sure if he slept at all. Or ate, for that matter. She assumed that he did, because groceries would be used up without explanation, but she had never actually seen him eat herself, something which she found oddly disconcerting.

Disconcerting… That was a good word to describe him with. Everything about him was a little off, a little inhuman. His movements were too graceful, his skin too pale, his voice too perfect, his eyes too bright… And he was too cold. Not his skin, for she hadn't actually made physical contact with him yet, and so had no idea what his actual body temperature was. No, it was the rest of him, from his stony, masked features to his clipped, icy words, whenever he did deign to speak with her, which radiated chill. However, there was also something almost intangible about him that seemed to hint at fire and passion, but it was muted most of the time, as if he had built up a thick wall of ice to smother it behind. It was only ever evident to her in glimpses: finding escape through his music, or sometimes in flashes blazing from the depths of his molten eyes.

Despite the fact that he did still terrify her—completely terrify her, almost to the point of setting off her "fight-or-flight" reaction whenever she was in a room with him—Christine found herself strangely drawn to him, longing to befriend this enigma of a man and find out if he truly was as uncaring as he came across. Something about him gave her a sneaking suspicion that his frigid demeanor was actually all an act, though what it was concealing she hadn't the slightest idea. She did, however, notice when he would slip up and unknowingly show her a generous, almost compassionate side of himself. She could see it in the way he behaved with Ayesha, who had quickly become completely enraptured with the man, and in the way he would make her breakfast every morning and have everything she needed for school that day neatly stacked beside the door. When she had attempted to thank him for this, though, he had merely brushed it off, saying he was tired of standing around every morning while she 'tore about her apartment like a monkey on amphetamines.' While she didn't doubt that this was partly the inspiration behind his actions, she still found the gesture oddly touching.

Also, she remembered the playful way he had spoken with her on his first day there, and was becoming increasingly frustrated that she couldn't seem to elicit that same response from him again. Was it so wrong for her to want to be friends with the man forced to shadow her every movement? Was she honestly so insufferable that he could barely make himself speak with her? It was with these thoughts and frustrations gnawing at her that Christine determinedly entered the library one Friday evening and flung herself onto her knees in front of Erik.

"I need you!" she declared abruptly, clasping her hands together in front of her face.

Erik's head jerked up sharply from the book it had previously been buried in, eyes widening in shock. "I… beg your pardon?"

Christine seemed to ignore the look of surprise (and was that fear?) that flashed across his face before he could school it away, and plowed on determinedly. "Friday night is movie night, but Meg just found out she has to go to the hospital to see her cousin being born, and I've already rented a huge stack of movies, and I have the junk food all set up, and it would be completely pathetic if I just sat there eating junk food and watching movies by myself, and I haven't spoken so much as three words to you these past two weeks despite the fact that I _live with you_, which is weird and annoying and if I didn't know any better I'd think you were avoiding me, which is completely crazy and irrational of me to think because you obviously have no reason to, so since I'm short of a best friend and you're not ignoring me and we've simply had a weird set of circumstances this whole time that has kept us from talking, I think you should come watch movies with me," she finished decisively, drawing in a huge breath to replenish oxygen to her starving lungs.

Erik stared at her guardedly, more than a little impressed with the skill she had shown by delivering that monologue without once stopping for air. Years of singing had given the girl quite a pair of lungs, apparently. After giving himself a moment to digest all the information that had been rapidly spurted at him, he shifted through it and tried to decide on something to respond to. "I appreciate your offer, but I'm afraid I'm not greatly fond of either movies or junk food."

"I'll get you some carrot sticks," Christine shot back without missing a beat. "And surely you have to like _some_ type of movies?"

"Certainly not romantic comedies."

"Oh please," Christine scoffed, narrowing her eyes. "Only a third of the stack is chick flicks."

Despite his best efforts, Erik felt his head cock to the side inquisitively. "And the rest?"

"Well now," she stated with a falsely sweet smile. "You'll just have to come and see for yourself, won't you?"

Erik sighed and shook his head resolutely. "I'm afraid I'm at a rather interesting part in my book at the moment…"

Christine tilted her head down and glanced up at him, her bright blue eyes shining through her dark lashes and her lower lip jutting out subtly into a heart-wrenching pout. "Please, Mr. Draven?" she asked in a voice so sweet and sad that he knew it was a lost cause.

"Oh, very well…" he muttered resignedly, snapping his book shut. Christine grinned excitedly and jumped up from the floor. "Just out of curiosity though, how long have you been practicing that look?"

Christine gave him a smug smirk and seemed to visibly preen. "Oh, years and years. Don't feel bad it worked on you. It's gotten me out of quite a few tickets and detentions, and Daddy never even stood a chance."

_So much for my resolution to avoid speaking with her… _Erik thought despondently. And he had been doing so well… With a sigh, he followed Christine into the living room where, sure enough, a large stack of movies sat on the coffee table aside a generous spread of snack food and sweets. Christine unceremoniously thrust the movies into his arms and seated herself on the couch.

"Since I browbeat you into participating," she explained simply as he gave her a questioning look. "It's only fair."

Erik proceeded to shift curiously through the stack, realizing only as he failed to recognize almost any of the titles how few movies he'd actually seen in his life. When he was starved for entertainment, he usually preferred to engross himself into a book where he could control the images instead of having to accept the director's version, or he would simply get lost in his music. Cinema had rarely wound its way into his life and so, for lack of prior knowledge, he just picked the first movie with a cover that appealed to him, simply entitled 'The Crow.'

"Ooh! Good choice!" Christine exclaimed enthusiastically. "Ever seen it?"

Her grin widened when he shook his head. "Interesting… Considering you and the main character share surnames… Oh well! Sit back, relax, and enjoy," she ordered, dancing over to the entertainment center and bending over to insert the DVD. Erik tried, unsuccessfully, to keep his eyes from noticing the way the boxers she always wore to sleep in rode up as she did so, revealing pale, sculpted thighs and a flash of red lace before she stood up again. Erik stifled a groan and shifted a little in his seat.

_Ugh…_he thought, suddenly disgusted with himself. _Since when did I turn into a hormonal teenage boy? You're better than this, Erik. You have more self control… So start acting like it._

Christine, evidently oblivious to her bodyguard's mutinous hormones, settled herself into the couch beside him. Erik shifted subtly to the very edge, putting as much space between them as he could and focusing all of his attention on the movie. _Just get through this movie and you can flee like the pathetic coward you are…_

ECECECECECECEC

"So," Christine began as the end credits rolled. Erik glanced over expectantly from his perch on the edge of the sofa; he hadn't relaxed his posture at all during the film. "What'd you think?"

"It was fine," he replied noncommittally.

Christine rolled her eyes. "C'mon, Mr. Draven, give me more than that!"

"It was… an interesting concept, if a bit cheesy at times, and it was well filmed," he finally declared, then, after a pause, added, "And I found it rather interesting that they chose to portray their hero as a murderer."

Christine tapped a finger to her chin, contemplating this. "Well I wouldn't really call him a murderer, to be honest. More of an executioner. Those bastards completely deserved it, after all."

Erik's eyes widened in surprise but narrowed as he scrutinized her. "You're quick to cast judgment, Mademoiselle. Their crime was no different from his."

"Of course it was! The sickest kind of murder is that performed for sheer entertainment. He killed out of a sense of righteousness and vengeance. There may have been better ways to handle it, sure, but his acts did at least stem from a purpose, and probably saved a lot of people from having to face similar fates as his."

"Murder is murder, my dear," he spoke quietly, his voice dark, as he watched her intently through fathomless eyes.

"You know, I don't think you actually believe that…" Christine met his gaze evenly, her lips pursed in confusion. "Why do I get the feeling that you're testing me or something?"

Erik looked taken aback, but felt a deep chuckle escape unbidden from his chest. Christine felt a pleasant shiver ripple through her at the sound. "Perceptive…" he murmured, almost to himself.

"Well… Did I pass?" Christine finally prodded when he didn't offer up any further comment.

"You did adequately," he stated finally, a faint smirk twisting at his pale lips.

"Your praise is astounding," she deadpanned.

"Flattery is hollow, mademoiselle, and usually only given to gain something in return. True praise is given because it's deserved, and holds the more weight the harder earned it is."

Christine looked genuinely startled by his statement, but quickly covered it with a teasing smile. "An astute observation, Obi-Wan," she acknowledged, bowing her head humbly. "Such boundless wisdom…"

"Yes, and in one so young and beautiful, as well," Erik agreed, flipping his hair daintily.

Christine let out a peal of laughter that painted a satisfied grin across Erik's face. He could not remember a time when he had ever made someone laugh like that. "Well, Master Kenobi, what would you suggest we watch next?" Christine queried once her laughter subsided.

"Next?" Erik echoed, obvious surprise coloring his voice.

"But of course! A high quality movie night cannot consist of simply one movie. Then it's just a normal night where you happen to be watching a movie while pigging out on junk food," she explained exasperatedly. "Honestly, Mr. Draven, do you know nothing?"

Erik raised his eyebrows. "Whatever happened to 'such boundless wisdom'?"

"Apparently it had a few more bounds than I thought…"

"My, how easy it is to fall out of favor with you… One slip-up and I'm demoted from Jedi Master to blathering idiot."

Christine shrugged her shoulders unconcernedly. "Yes, well, I set my standards very high. It's not my fault if others fail to reach them."

"I'll be sure to try harder in the future…" he remarked dryly.

"See that you do," she agreed haughtily, her mouth twitching in an effort to stop her grin. "Right, since I obviously can't let a blathering idiot make any important movie night decisions, I suppose the next selection will be of my choosing."

"By all means," Erik agreed, gesturing towards the stack and inclining his head in mock deference.

With a wicked grin, she grabbed a movie out of the stack and placed it in the DVD player. Erik watched in trepidation as the opening credits started up, rolling across a black screen while a disembodied pair of ruby-red lips sang in the background.

"What in God's name are we watching?"

Christine whipped her head around to stare at him, her jaw dropping. "You can't be serious… You've never seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show?"

He gave her a blank stare.

"You poor, deprived man…" she muttered, her hand flying up to her mouth in false horror. "I can't believe I get to take your Rocky Horror virginity! This is such an honor!"

"Is that so?" His face was very grave despite the urge he felt to burst into laughter at her melodramatic reaction.

"Shh! No talking during the movie!" she hissed in response as the credits faded away and revealed what appeared to be a wedding party posing for a picture.

Two hours, several singing transvestites, and one personal performance of the Time Warp (courtesy of one Christine Daaé) later, found Erik staring at the blank TV screen in a mixture of amusement and horror, knowing his mind would never be the same again.

"What kind of infernal substances must the writer have been taking to _ever _come up with something that deranged?"

"I have no idea. But I'd like to get a hold of some!" Christine declared, giggling.

Erik only shook his head, a hand coming up to press over the eyeholes of his mask. "I think the image of Tim Curry dancing around in a leather bustier is permanently etched into my brain," he moaned despondently.

Christine just shrugged. "Eh, there are worse things."

This had him dropping his hand and glancing at her sharply. "Now, _that _is a scary thought!"

"I dunno. I think he looks kind of attractive like that, in a sort of twisted way, of course…"

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"And just what is _that _supposed to mean, Mr. Draven?" she asked irately, attempting to smack him with a couch cushion.

Erik caught the cushion before it could reach him, chuckling. "Nothing at all, Mademoiselle Daaé. Nothing at all."

Christine tugged the pillow out of his grasp and leaned back, hugging it to her chest and studying him curiously. "Why do you insist on calling me that?"

"_Pardonnez moi_?" he asked, blinking in confusion.

"Why do you keep calling me mademoiselle? I mean, I'm sitting out here in my pajamas, eating Cheese Puffs and watching the Rocky Horror Picture Show with you. Despite how sexy your usage of French may be, this occasion hardly calls for formalities."

Sexy? _That _word had certainly never been used to describe him before… Erik quickly schooled the surprise from his features and turned his thoughts back to her question. "Why would I not address you that way? You've never expressed that I should call you anything else, and you still refer to me as Mr. Draven, after all."

"My dear Mr. Draven," Christine began with good-natured exasperation, "I still call you that for the simple reason that you have yet to inform me of your first name."

"Oh," he said, clearly taken aback. He hadn't, had he? "Forgive me. I rarely find myself in the position of becoming acquainted with people, so I've not amassed much skill in proper introductions, I'm afraid. I don't usually make it a habit of socializing with my clients."

"Ah. Sorry… I guess I sort of forced you out of that, didn't I?" she asked sheepishly.

"Yes, you did," he declared, though his voice was more amused than accusatory, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. After a long pause in which neither said anything, he finally glanced down and spoke. "Erik. My name is Erik."

"Erik…" she echoed, and for some reason he found that he enjoyed the sound of his name on her lips. She flashed a brilliant smile and held her hand out to him. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Erik."

He stared at her hand uncomprehendingly.

"Now's the part where we shake hands," she stage-whispered, an amused grin playing across her face at his confusion.

Erik continued to stare, but when her hand remained extended patiently towards him with no signs of backing off, he reluctantly reached over and placed his shaking hand timidly within her own. Christine jerked back instinctively at the contact.

His fingers were ice-cold!

Erik's lips tightened imperceptibly, and his previously honey-gold eyes darkened almost to black.

"You should be getting to bed," he declared tonelessly, rising stiffly from the couch and starting down the hallway.

"Wait! Don't-"

"Goodnight, Mademoiselle Daaé," he interrupted, coldly and with a finality that brooked no arguments.

"Goodnight… Erik…" Christine whispered back dejectedly.

She got the sense that, somehow, her actions had decisively destroyed the fragile friendship she had started building with her mysterious and elusive bodyguard.

Erik slammed the door shut and began to pace about the library. He was practically seething in fury, though whether it was directed at Christine or himself he couldn't tell.

_Spineless, weak, pathetic excuse of a man! _he internally berated himself, then sneered scornfully. _Man? No, not a man… A man wouldn't have the hands of a corpse which send pretty little girls scurrying away from him, or a face to match…_

He crashed his hands down on the keys of the piano as he stalked past it. What was _wrong _with him? What happened to his carefully constructed barriers and his iron self-control? One little pout from that infernal girl and suddenly they all shattered!

And why was she so insistent on talking to him, anyway? He could tell she was a social girl from watching her in her classes; no matter who she sat next to she always managed to strike up a conversation, but was she truly so desperate for companionship that she had to resort to pestering her bodyguard? If she had just left him alone instead of barging in there and forcing him into watching those movies with her…

_No,_ Erik thought with a groan as he sank miserably onto the piano bench. _It's not fair to blame her for this. All she did was try to be civil with you… She reacted like anyone would in her situation… You are one creepy son of a bitch, after all. Can you truly resent her for recoiling in disgust?_

_Yes, _the darker, more spiteful side of him argued back. _Yes I can. _She _initiated the contact. _She _is the one who forced her company on me in the first place. If she would just take the hint and leave me the hell alone, everything would be fine! There's a reason I don't bother with friends or relationships of any kind!_

_You mean aside from your face? _the voice of his self-loathing spoke back. Most of Erik's internal debates took place between the voices of his hatred for himself and his hatred for the rest of humanity.

_Forget it… She's just a silly little girl, after all. I have no reason to be so upset by a completely predictable reaction._

_Predictable, eh? If it was so predictable, then why did you feel a faint glimmer of—surely that wasn't hope—when she held her hand out? That's why you were so upset when she jerked away. You had actually fooled yourself for one second into thinking that perhaps she would appreciate your dazzling wit so much, that she could overlook your macabre physique, that maybe here was a person who could actually appreciate you as a human being and befriend you… You are a fool._

With an inhuman snarl, Erik pounded a hissing, dissonant chord out on the piano. The hideous sound gave him a strange sense of satisfaction, so he followed it with another, then another, and another, until the random chords morphed into a fugue into which he poured all of his rage and frustration at himself and the cruel, shallow, judgmental world he was trapped in.

_I am a fool._


	6. Chapter 6

**Guarded Hearts**

_All recognizable characters are property of Gaston Leroux or Susan Kaye._

Sorry the update took so long... I've been in Disney World where an internet connection is ten dollars a night... Thanks so much to my beta, Goth Angel UK for her help! Hope you enjoy.

"Right… Open hatch, insert can, press button, and be amazed! How hard can it be?"

Christine was leaning against her kitchen counter, staring at the instructions printed on the side of her electric can-opener with an expression of intense concentration. "Okay… Open hatch… Check. Insert can…" She grabbed a can of Meow Mix cat food from beside her and placed it in the proper slot on the contraption. "Check. Press button, check." She lifted a determined finger and placed it against the large red button that was meant to start the can-opener. The machine made an angry whirring noise before cutting off with a click and dropping the cat food unceremoniously onto the counter. "Be amazed… Big freakin' X!"

She attempted the process several more times before slapping a hand over her eyes and throwing herself into a chair with a groan. Cracking a finger open to see through, she tilted her head down and met the inquisitive blue eyes of her cat.

"How set were you on being fed today?" she asked conversationally, releasing a resigned sigh at the impatient mew she got in response. "Right. That's what I was afraid of…"

The sudden sound of Queen's "Don't Stop Me Now" blaring from Christine's pocket thankfully interrupted her next attempt with the can-opener. "H'lo?" she questioned, propping the phone to her shoulder. She pushed down the can-opener button and hung her head when it dropped the food again.

"Hey, Chris, what're you up to?" Meg questioned cheerfully.

"Oh, you know… Just contemplating how much damage a five-storey drop out of a window would do to an electric can-opener," Christine answered casually, smacking said can-opener with the still-very-much-closed can.

"Ah. Kitchen appliances being rebellious again?"

"The devious bastards know nothing of obedience."

"Well, just eat something that doesn't come from a can," Meg suggested, chortling at Christine's all too frequent cooking battles.

"It's Ayesha's cat food."

"Oh. Damn."

Christine gave up entirely on the device and began scouring her kitchen for something sharp that she could use to stab into the can and manually rip the lid off. "My sentiments exactly. Well… Not exactly. There were a few more words thrown in and all…"

"I get the gist," Meg cut in quickly. "But why are you even bothering with that thing, anyway? Didn't you call it 'a stupid, useless, overpriced example of the overwhelming laziness of Americans' when Mitch gave it to you for your birthday?"

Christine gave a desolate sigh. "I did, and still stand by that… Except I'd also like to add the words 'infuriating' and 'utterly ineffective' to that description."

"So, then, why bother?" Meg asked through her laughter.

"I lost my regular can-opener."

"Oh, Chris…" her friend chided with a sigh. "You are by far the most forgetful, disorganized person I've ever met. You have no idea how happy I was to move out of that pit of chaos you call an apartment."

"Ouch, Meg!" Christine exclaimed, clutching at her heart despite the fact her friend couldn't see it. "It hurts that you would choose cleanliness over our friendship…"

"Excuse me for not wanting to go on a scavenger hunt for every single one of my belongings on a daily basis."

"All right, I suppose I'll give you that one…" Christine finally settled on the boning knife out of the expensive knife set she'd purchased on a whim years ago and never used. "So, aside from mocking me for my lack of organizational skills, why'd you call?"

"I need to go shopping. Fall is coming up and I haven't updated my wardrobe yet."

"I don't suppose you've considered re-wearing your clothes from last fall?" Christine grunted as she stabbed the knife into the lid of the can.

Disbelieving silence met her comment.

"Right. Foolish me. Sorry I even suggested such a travesty."

Meg breathed an audible sigh of relief. "It's all right. I'll overlook it as a result of emotional trauma caused by your insubordinate can-opener."

"Your generosity is without bounds," Christine declared sardonically. She grasped the can firmly in one hand and attempted to saw the knife in a circle across the lid, clenching her teeth at the effort.

"C'mon and get ready. I'll meet you at Starbucks in five."

"Can't you just take Danny Boy?" Christine asked, releasing the knife to give her hand a momentary break.

"And have to listen to him whining the whole time? He hates shopping."

"So do I."

"Since when?"

"Going on a wardrobe replacement spree with you? Always."

"Chris! Come on!" Meg whined. "I'll buy you a can-opener!"

Christine paused then, staring between the can with a miniscule, jaggedly-cut opening in the top and her red, aching hand, but slowly shook her head. "I can't, Meg. I'm sorry."

"Why not?" Meg huffed petulantly.

"I'm… uh… busy," Christine hissed out through clenched teeth, redoubling her efforts at sawing through the lid. "Ouch!" The knife slipped loose from the can and sliced a line across her palm, causing her to swallow several curses at the pain.

"Christine Bellerose Daaé. You have three seconds to give me a damn good excuse as to why you're blowing me off or I'm heading over to your apartment this instant and I'm going to drag your lazy ass out by force."

Christine gave an exasperated sigh, dropping the knife and grabbing a paper towel to hold against her bleeding palm. "Fine. If you must know… Due to Daddy's current popularity with the upstanding members of our city, I'm not supposed to leave the house without my bodyguard… And this poses a rather large problem because, at the moment, I'm kind of… afraid to ask him." This last statement was said in the smallest voice possible.

Meg made a sound that was a mix of an amused snort and an exasperated sigh. "Is he still not speaking to you?"

"Oh, no. I actually got him to talk to me yesterday."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. He replaced you at movie night."

Meg gasped in feigned outrage. "Christine! How could you?"

"Well, _you _were the one who had to run off and see your aunt give birth! I was lonely."

"That is no excuse! You replaced me in our most sacred movie night ritual! You are a cold-hearted, traitorous friend and I don't know how I'll ever be able to forgive you."

Christine rolled her eyes. "I'll give you that denim jacket you've been trying to steal from me ever since I bought it two years ago."

A contemplative silence met that statement. "You are forgiven," Meg finally declared in a sage voice. "So what'd you two watch?"

"The Crow and Rocky Horror, neither of which he had seen, by the way."

"Oh my God! You popped his Rocky Horror Picture Show cherry! How'd he take it?"

"He's suffering from mild trauma," Christine responded flippantly. "But he'll recover in time, and I actually think he liked it."

"Good. Because I never would have let you speak to him otherwise," Meg declared imperiously, causing Christine to giggle. "So what happened after the movies?"

"Well, we just talked for a while. He's actually really funny, when he bothers to speak."

"So what's the problem, then? Why are you so afraid to ask him to escort you out?"

Christine grimaced at the reminder and wrung her hands nervously, wincing when her actions twisted the gash across her palm. "Well, things were going good and all, and we were getting along really well… And then, being me, I somehow managed to screw it all up."

Meg gave a resigned sigh. "What'd you do?"

"I don't really want to talk about it…"

"Chris!"

"Let's just… suffice to say that after I made my little blunder he locked himself in the library and hasn't come out since. And he played really angry music all night."

"Angry music? Chris, you own a piano. That's a pretty mellow instrument. I mean, Billy Joel and Elton John play the piano. Can piano music actually even sound angry?"

"It definitely can when he plays it."

"Well... that's not a good sign."

"Probably not, thus why I'm currently avoiding doing anything else that might upset him, which includes asking him to come with me on a shopping spree. So why don't you go find Danny Boy, force him into going with you, and promise him a treat afterwards if he's a good boy. And buy me a can opener!" Christine ordered, hanging up the phone immediately before Meg could protest.

Slowly, her gaze fell down to the mangled can of cat food housed in her uninjured hand. "So, Ayesha, how would you feel about some nice, juicy bacon for lunch?"

ECECECECECECECEC

"EEP!"

The startled shriek and resounding crash that followed it ripped Erik out of the gloomy reverie he had been immersed in ever since the previous night. Without a second thought, he bounded off of the piano bench and into the kitchen, where the noise had originated from. His Punjab lasso was clasped in one hand, and his entire body was tightened in preparation to deal with whatever he found, only to see that the fearsome perpetrator that had so alarmed Christine was, in fact, a large fire that had erupted from a skillet. Christine was pressed back against the counter, staring at the flames with a classic "deer-in-the-headlights" look.

Erik allowed himself to relax and pocketed his lasso, releasing an annoyed growl as he grabbed a container of salt out of the cabinet and poured it onto the skillet, effectively smothering the flames. Christine jumped in surprise at his sudden presence and then shot him a tense, apprehensive attempt at an apologetic smile.

"Oh, right! You're supposed to _put out_ the fire, not stare at it like a frightened rabbit!" she exclaimed in a weak attempt at humor. "Guess I should have tried to do that… I mean, _technically_ I know how to extinguish a grease fire… but… Well, I guess I freaked out a bit."

Erik's only response was to shoot her a disdainful look and turn around to retreat back to the library.

"Mr. Draven! Wait!"

Erik paused, his back still to her, and waited wordlessly for her to speak.

"I, uh… I just wanted to, well… apologize…"

"For setting a pan of bacon grease on fire?" he questioned wryly without bothering to turn around.

"Well… Yeah. And for last night."

His shoulders tensed visibly, but when he spoke his voice was perfectly polite and composed. "What about last night? Surely you're not feeling remorse for forcing me to watch the floor show scene in Rocky Horror Picture Show three times, back-to-back?"

"Of course not! That was a cultural experience and absolutely nothing to feel remorse for!" Christine exclaimed adamantly. Then her face softened and she glanced down ashamedly. "No, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for… Well, you know…"

"As a matter of fact, I don't."

"Um…" Christine gulped. What was she supposed to say? '_I'm sorry for jerking away from you, but your hands are so cold it felt like you were dead and it freaked me out a little_'? "For the, uh… The way I…" She trailed off then, unable to finish.

This time, Erik did turn around to face her, his glacial yellow eyes boring into her and sending a chill down her spine. "I would hardly call it an apology if you can't even bring yourself to say what you're apologizing for, Mademoiselle Daaé."

The emotionless civility with which he addressed her cut more deeply than any angry words or even his more typical icy barbs would have done. Christine winced and opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again instantly. What could she say?

With a bitterly knowing smile, Erik inclined his head towards her and spun around to leave. On instinct, Christine flung her hand out and wrapped her slim fingers around Erik's wrist. The action effectively stopped him in his tracks, and he whipped his head around sharply to stare at Christine with wide, startled eyes.

"I'm sorry, Erik."

Erik's gaze darted back and forth between her soft blue eyes and the equally soft hand trapping him in place. His mouth started to open but clamped shut just as quickly, as he racked his reeling brain for a response. It was then that he noticed the blood-soaked paper towel clutched in the hand that Christine wasn't holding him with.

"You're hurt," he stated simply. His even tone gave away nothing of his inner turmoil.

Christine blinked, his blunt declaration catching her off guard. "Um. A little, yeah."

Erik reached out, as if to grasp Christine's hand and examine it, but suddenly seemed to realize what he was doing and withdrew. Christine marveled at his skittishness and briefly wondered if her negative reaction the previous night was the cause of it, or if there was a deeper-rooted reason for his fear of contact. She wordlessly extended her injured hand and placed it, palm up, into his grasp.

Slowly, carefully, as if fearing she would flinch from his touch again if he moved too quickly, Erik removed the paper towel and examined the deep gash the boning knife had given her.

"I was trying to open Ayesha's cat food."

He glanced up questioningly. "You did this with a can-opener?"

"Err, no. I couldn't find my can opener, so I was trying to, uh, improvise." She nodded her head towards the partially mangled can and the red-tinged blade sitting beside it.

"Ah."

"Yeah. And when that didn't work out, I thought I'd just fry her up some bacon or something… But of course that was just about as successful." She glanced down, her cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. "I really shouldn't be allowed in a kitchen…"

Erik felt a grudging smile fighting its way to his face. "No, perhaps not."

Christine's cheeks flushed redder even as she mirrored his smile.

Erik carefully lowered her hand and extracted himself from her grasp, picking a clean knife from the drawer and efficiently sawing the lid off the can with barely a thought. He dumped the contents into Ayesha's food bowl and stroked her lovingly as she rushed to attack it.

"So," he began, turning back to face an incredulous Christine. "You cut your hand _before _you handled raw meat with nothing binding your wound?"

"I… uh… Ew! I guess… Thanks for phrasing it that way! Gross!" Christine wrinkled her nose in disgust and shot Erik an angry look.

He grinned wolfishly. "Come. We should put some antiseptic on that before you get an infection." He gently tugged her uninjured hand towards the bathroom. Christine followed grudgingly, muttering under her breath as she went.

"You know, I'm a big girl and I _am _fully capable of treating my own wounds by myself, thank you very much."

"Is that so?" Erik drawled. "Well then, why didn't the big girl think to treat her wound before she handled raw bacon and tried to burn the apartment down?"

Christine humphed and jerked her hand from his grasp, immediately regretting her action at the flash of pain she saw in Erik's eyes before he covered it with smug condescension.

_How many people must have rejected his touch before in his life to have caused that instinctive hurt, even when I drew away for a completely innocent reason? _Christine thought pityingly. She began to wonder, not for the first time, what kind of life this enigmatic man had led before she met him. How much ridicule had he suffered due to his differences?

Christine pondered this as she followed Erik into the cramped bathroom and hopped onto the counter, swinging her legs in a childishly innocent manner as she waited patiently for him to locate her first-aid supplies.

When Erik finally found the supplies he had been looking for, he doused a cotton ball with antiseptic solution and then held his hand out questioningly. Apparently he wasn't about to be initiating contact on his own any time soon. Christine gave him a small, reassuring smile as she placed her hand, once again, into his own.

Before he started cleaning the wound, he pressed deft, elegant fingers gently along the cut to examine it. His touch was cool, callused and delicate, and Christine found herself rather enjoying the sensation.

"So, how's it looking, Doc?"

"It's not pretty… But I think you'll survive. The hand, however, may not fare so well." He could have been a true surgeon delivering a life-altering prognosis for all that his face and voice gave away. Christine mentally awarded him points for going along with her joke unquestioningly.

"Damn. There goes my burgeoning career as a hand model."

"I save lives, Ma'amselle, not jobs."

"Nor limbs, apparently."

"As long as you're breathing when I'm through with you, I feel I've done my job."

Christine's grin turned into a wince as Erik began to lightly press the cotton ball against her cut.

"Are you all right?" he asked, more out of politeness than any actual concern. A slice to the palm was not exactly a life-threatening occurrence.

"Stings," she admitted reluctantly. She felt like a five-year-old girl again, making faces and hissing as her father cleaned up the numerous scrapes and bruises she had acquired while playing with her friends.

Erik glanced up at her with a cruel smirk. "But you're a big girl and you can handle the pain. Just like you can handle knives and skillets and can-openers, right?"

Christine's eyes narrowed into slits and she bared her teeth at him. "A good physician does not mock his patients, Dr. Draven."

"I'm not a real physician, my dear, so I'm free to mock you as much as I like."

"Well you work for me, so I'm free to replace you whenever _I _like!"

Erik stilled in his motions and gave Christine a hurt look. "You threaten to fire me immediately after I save your life?"

"Psh!" Christine scoffed. "Save my life? You've got to be kidding me. You saved like an eighth of my kitchen!"

"An act of heroism, nonetheless," Erik declared solemnly.

"You poured salt onto a skillet. I'm thinking the Medal of Honor will have to wait," Christine shot back scathingly.

Erik shook his head and tsked at her, dropping the cotton ball and picking up a pad of gauze. "Your manners leave a lot to be desired, Mademoiselle Daaé, though I suppose your hostility is understandable, given the situation."

"The situation?" Christine repeated, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

Erik looked up from where he was carefully taping the gauze to her palm and gave her a sweet smile. "You're just upset because I handled the situation professionally, while you cowered in fear like a small child."

_How can the man go from practically flinching away from my touch like a dog that's been abused all its life to mocking me like a smug, preening bastard in the space of five minutes? _Christine thought incredulously, even as she gave him a condescending look.

"Professionally? Tell me, Mr. Draven, was the proper technique to extinguish a grease-fire part of your _professional _training as a bodyguard?"

"I am trained to protect you from any-and every-thing that could cause you harm, including your own incompetence," he replied coolly, completely unfazed by her sarcasm.

_Damn, the man was good!_

"And to think that I turned down a shopping trip with Meg earlier simply for your comfort. I doubt I'll be so generous in the future."

"Was it really for my comfort? Or was it for fear of asking me to accompany you?" Erik hadn't actually been listening to their conversation, but he could tell by Christine's reaction that he was correct in his suspicions. Her silent admission caused something vaguely akin to guilt to twist in his gut, and he quickly wiped the cold sneer from his face. "I am employed to keep you safe while you live out your life, not to impose upon it," he declared sincerely, holding her startled gaze. "In the future, please do not hesitate to ask anything of me, Christine."

His seraphic voice lingered on her name and morphed it into a silken, sensuous caress that made heat coil in the base of her stomach.

_Oh, my…_

By this point, Erik had finished taping her hand, but made no move to release it. The feel of someone's skin willingly in contact with his own was a rather intoxicating sensation that he was reluctant to give up so soon after discovering. Christine, for her part, didn't seem to notice or mind his actions, or lack thereof.

"Fair enough," she agreed with a small, flirtatious smile. "In that case, my first request would have to be for you not to make me resort to arson and self-mutilation the next time I want to spend some time with you." She raised the hand not being cradled in his grasp to rest upon his shoulder and peered into his eyes with genuine warmth and concern. "Crawl out of your cave every once in a while, why don't you?"

Her touching gesture filled him with an unfamiliar, and surprisingly intense, rush of affection, and all he could do was nod.

Christine smiled and squeezed his shoulder, noting briefly how solidly muscled it was, then tilted her head to the side and studied him contemplatively. "Erik? Can I ask you something?"

_No, oh no… _Erik felt his spine snap straight and he had to fight with himself not to tear away from her touch. She was going to ask about the mask. He knew it was bound to happen eventually, but did it have to be right then? Right as he was starting to forge some kind of friendship with the only person aside from Nadir who'd ever taken the time to be decent to him? _Damn her and her curiosity…_

Erik watched her through guarded, hostile eyes as he forced himself to nod his permission.

"Do you have any idea where the hell my can-opener is?"


	7. Chapter 7

Books » Phantom of the Opera » **Guarded Hearts**

Author: TrashedXandXScattered

Rated: M - English - Romance/Humor - Reviews: 486 - Published: 06-06-09 - Updated: 03-20-12

id:5117741

**Guarded Hearts**

_All recognizable characters are property of Gaston Leroux or Susan Kay_

Just a bit of fluff and fun, not a whole lot of actual plot, though I am planning on starting with that in the next chapter. Thanks again to Goth Angel UK for beta-ing for me! Your work is much appreciated. Hope you guys enjoy!

"I spy with my little eye something… fake."

"Hmm… That plant over there?"

"Nope."

"Carlotta's boobs?"

"You think?"

"Oh, honey. There's no way D-cups would be that perky if they were gifts of Mother Nature!"

"Well, now that you mentioned it… But that's not what I'm spying."

"Right… Huh. Oh! Mr. Spitzley's hair!"

"Bingo!"

Christine and Meg dissolved into giggles, completely oblivious to the questioning looks this earned them from the students seated near them in the auditorium. Erik watched them curiously from his perch in the rafters (a much more pleasant alternative to air vents, which was unfortunately only provided to him in a select few locations on campus), amusing himself with their antics while he waited on the administrators to reveal the purpose of the gathering they had called of all the school's performance majors.

"Okay, your turn," he heard Christine gasp out once her laughter had subsided.

Meg nodded and looked around contemplatively. "Right. I spy something…" Suddenly her eyes landed on something and her entire face lit up. "…completely gorgeous, sweet, and wonderful!"

"Hmm… What_ever_ could that be…" Christine muttered sarcastically, shaking her head. She followed Meg's line of vision, unsurprised to see an attractive red-headed man making his way towards them.

"Hey, sweetie!" Meg chirped as the man leaned over and pecked her on the lips.

"Hi, Darling. Hey, Chris," he greeted warmly in a thick Irish brogue, taking a seat beside Meg. Erik assumed this was Meg's boyfriend, the famed "Danny Boy" he had heard mention of many times over the past few weeks.

"O'Connell," Christine returned, nodding curtly. She grinned as he rolled his eyes good-naturedly, then glanced past him to smile at the curly-haired man who had taken a seat beside him. "Nikolai!"

"Kristiana!"

"I don't suppose it'd kill you two to use your real names just once?" Daniel questioned with mock annoyance.

"It very well might," Christine began solemnly, "and that is not a risk I am willing to take."

Daniel shook his head exasperatedly. "I don't see how you put up with this one, Meg," he declared, throwing an arm around her shoulder comfortingly.

Meg nodded emphatically, putting on her best martyr face and leaning into his chest. "It's a challenge, I'll admit, but I manage, somehow..."

"Oh, I dunno," the newcomer interjected, curling his mouth into a smile and winking at Christine. "I don't think it'd be such a chore…"

Erik drew his upper lip back in disgust at the boy's blatant attempt at flirting, not bothering to question too hard why it irked him so.

Christine gave him a coy smile even as she shook her head. "Not gonna work, Nick."

"Ah, come on, Chris! Just give me a chance!"

"I already did, remember? You took me to a System of a Down concert, then proceeded to get completely wasted, and I spent the rest of the night outside the arena, holding you up while you puked."

Nick blanched visibly at the reminder, quickly shooting her an endearingly sheepish smile. "Yes… well… that was a fluke occurrence and I'll never let it happen again!" he declared emphatically, puffing his chest out.

"Neither will I."

His chest deflated instantly.

Erik gave an appreciative-and more than a little smug-chuckle as Christine patted the boy's head dismissively and turned her attention back to Meg. Nick was kept from responding as the college's dean chose that moment to ascend the stage and begin speaking.

"Good afternoon, students," the stern-faced woman greeted, "and thank you for waiting so patiently for us to gather everyone. Now, as I'm sure most of you know, every year the school puts on a show for the city, letting our students handle everything in the production, from the cast and orchestra all the way down to lighting and costume design." All of the students seemed to perk up excitedly at the mention of this, though most of the older ones, including Christine and Meg, had known what was coming. "It is the purpose of this meeting to put the speculation to rest and reveal what production we'll be putting on this year. It is my delight to inform you that we are going to be performing the classic opera by Bizet, _Carmen_!"

"I told you the rumors about _Oklahoma _were a lie," Meg muttered to Christine, who responded by wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from her forehead and expelling a relieved sigh.

"Auditions will be held the Tuesday after next. A try-out routine will be shown during class to any dancers interested in taking part, and all singers should prepare a solo piece of their choosing. In order to determine chair placement, members of the orchestra will be required to play the audition piece which will be posted on the school's website, or handed out by your professors during class. If anyone has any questions concerning the auditions or the performance, feel free to ask me or any of your professors."

The woman went on to explain several other things pertaining to the performance, including practice schedules and performance times and the importance of not missing rehearsals. When she finally finished giving out all the information, everyone was released from the assembly.

"So, singer or dancer?" Meg asked Christine as they joined the sea of students flooding out of the auditorium.

"Well, I'll try out for both, but I hope I'll get to sing."

"I'm sure you will, Chris. They'd be crazy not to cast you," Meg declared with unwavering confidence. Christine gave her a thankful smile.

"Thanks, Meg. Now, if I'm not mistaken, I believe I'm keeping you and Danny Boy here from a night on the town!"

"That you are, but no worries. We've still got plenty of time before our reservation," Daniel said evenly. Meg slanted her eyes at him accusingly.

"Reservation? Danny! You said we were going to the movies and then to that little pizza joint across the street! I'm not dressed for anywhere fancy!"

"What are you talking about, Sweetie? You look great!"

"Uh oh… Clothing crisis," Christine remarked side-long to Nick, watching with obvious amusement as Meg crossed her arms and stalked towards her boyfriend threateningly. "Someone's getting put in time-out when they get home."

"Looks that way," Nick agreed with a smirk. "Hopefully the night he has planned for her will be enough to get him out of the hot seat, though."

Christine only raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise!"

"You know I hate surprises!"

"Hmm…" Christine cocked her head to the side. "It'd better be a damn good date."

"Let's go! I have to get home and change!" Meg demanded suddenly, grabbing Daniel's arm and starting to drag him away down the sidewalk.

"I, uh, guess we're leaving, then," Daniel stated, hopping forward and stumbling slightly in an attempt to keep up with Meg's frantic strides.

"Don't stay out too late!" Nick called out to them teasingly.

"And don't do drugs!" Christine added in. They received a rather crude hand-gesture from Meg in response, which only caused them to double over in laughter.

"So, since we've been so abruptly abandoned…" Nick began hopefully, slinging an arm around Christine's shoulder. "How about we go out for some dinner of our own?"

Christine expertly slid out from under his grasp, softening the sting of her rejection by grasping his hand as she did. "Sorry, Nick, but I really need to get home and start working on my audition piece."

He made a petulant face at her. "Seriously? You can't just put it off for a few hours?"

Christine only gave him an apologetic smile, releasing his hand and turning to walk away.

"Wait! At least let me walk you home. I've read the newspaper reports about all the stuff going on with your dad, and I wouldn't feel right just letting you go by yourself."

Christine turned to face him, her expression softening at the genuine concern in his voice, and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, Nick. I promise you I'm a whole lot safer at the moment than you are!" And with that enigmatic piece of information, she skipped around a bend in the sidewalk and out of his sight.

"Your confidence in me is overwhelming," a voice remarked dryly to Christine's left. She jumped, unable to stop her head from turning instinctively to locate the source of the voice even as she realized it would be useless.

"Dammit, Erik!" she exclaimed irately, clutching at her chest. "Give a girl some warning, would ya?"

"My apologies. It was not my intent to startle you."

"Uh huh… I'll just bet it wasn't…" His darkly amused chuckle seemed to float around her, not coming from any particular direction. "I'm starting to wish I'd have taken Nick up on his offer to walk me home… It might have kept you from scaring the life out of me and then laughing about it…"

"Not to mention it would have made his day. The boy seems quite taken with you." Erik's voice held a strange tone in it that Christine couldn't quite place.

"Nick's taken with anything possessing breasts. I just happened to be the closest thing to him which met that criterion," Christine remarked with a shrug.

There was a pause as Erik digested this. "You seemed to be on quite friendly terms with him," he then said, making it sound half-way between a statement and a question.

"Well, sure. Nick's a sweetheart," Christine explained, wondering what had caught Erik's interest enough to have him actually initiating a conversation outside of the apartment, but unwilling to ask a question and risk upsetting him. "But he's also a total party-boy, and much too interested in girls to narrow his focus down to any particular one."

"And yet you went out with him…"

Christine blinked. She'd only mentioned that in passing. Was the man taking notes on her conversations or something, or was he just scarily observant? "Well, yeah! I mean, c'mon. The guy had System tickets!"

"So all one has to do to gain your affections is bribe you with concert tickets?"

Christine searched his voice for any signs of disapproval or contempt, but Erik was extremely good at masking his emotions and let no hint of what he was feeling bleed through. Still, his comment had raised her hackles and she found herself responding rather defensively.

"It's not like I pledged my undying devotion to him, or anything. I just went on one date! And besides, Nick is cute and funny, so it's not like it was some huge sacrifice on my part, and the tickets were fourth row center! There's no way I would have turned down his offer, morals be damned!" she yelled out, pointing a finger accusingly in the general direction his last comment had come from.

A middle-aged couple that had just turned onto the street stopped in their tracks and watched Christine's outburst nervously. She dropped her arm, blushing, as soon as she saw her audience.

"Er, sorry 'bout that. I ran out of meds last week, but I'm on my way to get my prescription refilled right now, so the voices should be gone by tomorrow; Wednesday at the latest. No worries!" She gave them a cheerful smile and then skipped past before they could respond.

"Should I be freaked out by the fact that I can actually _feel _your incredulous stare?" she asked as soon as she had gotten a safe distance away from the couple.

"I'm sorry," Erik responded after a pause. "It's just that your reaction surprised me."

"You expected me to be mortified and stammer out some kind of excuse?"

"Perhaps. I certainly wasn't expecting you to comment merrily on your schizophrenia and then dance away."

"Eh, it's not like I'll ever see those people again, so why not make a joke out of it?" Christine asked, shrugging indifferently. "People waste their lives away, worrying too much about what other people think of them."

"An easy enough statement to make when all you have to do is smile and people instantly adore you," Erik murmured bitterly to himself, too quietly for Christine to hear.

They walked on in silence for a while before Christine suddenly raised her head questioningly. "Why is it that no one but me can actually hear _your _side of the conversation, anyway?"

"Because my words are only for you, Christine…" he whispered, pitching his voice directly into her ear and smirking in satisfaction at the slight shiver that rolled down her spine.

"So you're a ventriloquist, then?"

"Among other things, yes." This time his words came from below her, as if he were lying on the sidewalk beneath her feet. Christine actually stumbled slightly in an attempt to keep from stepping on him before she realized what she was doing and crossed her arms with a huff.

"Other things?" she echoed once she'd regained her balance, cocking her head to the side in interest. "Such as…?"

"Throughout my life I've worked as a stone-mason, architect, composer, musician, artist, magician, pick-pocket—"

"Hold up. A magician? As in, pick-a-card, any-card, watch-me-pull-a-small-fluffy-rodent-from-my-hat magician?"

"Honestly?" Erik questioned incredulously. "Out of all those, _that _is what you choose to comment upon?"

"I'm sorry, it's just a little hard for me to picture you pulling a quarter from somebody's ear!"

"Which is good, because I would never stoop to such demeaning parlor tricks. And I happen to detest small fluffy rodents." His voice came out of the branches of a nearby tree, seeming for all the world as if the squirrel that was warily watching Christine pass it by had just spoken.

Christine's spirited laughter startled the squirrel into scurrying up to the top of the tree for refuge.

"Wow, Erik," she gasped out once her laughter had died down a little. "That's amazing! Ever considered working as a professional ventriloquist or something?"

Erik was unable to take his eyes away from the luminous smile across her face. "I'm actually rather content with my current line of work right now."

Christine glanced down and bit her lip, cursing, not for the first time, that her fair complexion made her blushes so easily visible. They had made it to their apartment building by that time and walked through the entrance in silence, the only sound that interrupted their reveries coming in the form of a vicious snarl directly behind Christine that had her bolting up two flights of steps before she realized it was just Erik messing with her again.

She was still panting from fear and exertion by the time she rounded the corner that threw her apartment into view, unsurprised to see Erik holding the door open for her like he did every day. The only noticeable difference about him was the satisfied grin plastered on his lips, which would have put the cat that ate the canary to shame.

"Sneaky rat bastard…" she muttered to herself, walking up to him with her eyes narrowed threateningly and shoving lightly on his chest. "Don't _do _that!"

Erik froze in place, the smirk instantly flying off his face and all his muscles tensing until his chest felt like marble beneath Christine's fingertips. She winced internally, having forgotten his discomfort with physical contact, but kept her face trained in a playfully irritated scowl and let her hands remain on his chest as she continued to lecture him.

"And don't look so smug about it, either! I'm an extremely jumpy person, so scaring me is no great accomplishment, I assure you!" With an indignant snort, she carefully drew her hands back and stomped away to set her things down.

Erik stood where he was, letting his shock at the ease with which she touched him slowly ebb away, before he finally relaxed his tense stance. "I'm terribly sorry I upset you, Christine, but, really, your reaction was priceless."

"I swear… How the hell did I end up with a ventriloquist ninja wannabe as my bodyguard?" Despite her angry grumbling, Christine had to turn away to keep Erik from seeing her grin.

"Overwhelming luck?" Erik asked, throwing his words to come from a photo of Meg and Christine sitting on the entertainment center and mimicking the brunette's voice to perfection.

"That's it! I'm banishing you to your room! And I'm not letting you out until you promise to stop screwing with my head!" Christine shouted, placing her hands on her hips and trying not to choke on her laughter.

"As you wish, my dear," he stated with a dignified bow, shooting her one last grin before he turned and shut himself into his bedroom.

"Though I honestly don't see what good putting a door between us is going to do you," his voice declared from behind her.

Christine slapped a hand to her head with a groan, then shoved a Muse CD into her stereo and turned it up full blast.

Erik reclined onto his bed with a grin, bringing his hands up to rest against the part of his chest that Christine had touched and trying to remember the last time he had smiled so much in a single evening.


	8. Chapter 8

**Guarded Hearts**

_All recognizable characters are property of Gaston Leroux or Susan Kay._

Hm, a bit of a short chapter, but we're finally getting a teency bit of plot advancement… Wooh! Anyway, thanks so so so much to all of my incredible reviewers. I swear I do a little happy dance every time I get a review, and I appreciate all of your advice and opinions so much! Also, a huge thanks to my perfectionist beta Goth Angel UK who has helped me out so much with this story!

Read on and enjoy.

It wasn't until Erik nearly tripped over the cat that had suddenly wound herself through his legs that he realized he was pacing. Music was calling to him. It was a familiar feeling, the melodies playing through his mind, some of them familiar, some of them new and begging to be written down and recognized in their entirety. The sensation would have him completely restless and on edge until he could answer their powerful summons.

He glanced at the clock mounted on his wall, which revealed to him that it had been three hours since he had been so abruptly 'exiled.' He assumed that this was an acceptable period of time for such punishment, and decided that it would be safe to exit, so long as he refrained from using his talents to tease his lovely room-mate again. Although, he had to admit, the idea was sorely tempting...

With the corner of his mouth lifted in wry amusement, Erik exited his room and made his way on silent feet into the library. He was greeted with the sight of Christine balancing on the edge of the piano bench, digging through the very top row of a bookshelf which was completely filled with books and folders of sheet music. Her head was tilted at an unnatural angle to allow her cell-phone to stay sandwiched between her ear and shoulder as her hands were otherwise occupied in their task.

"No, apparently that was just one of the students starting a rumor as a bad joke," she spoke into the phone, completely oblivious to Erik's sudden presence. "I know, I'm so excited! It's one of my favorites." She paused as she waited for a response from the other end of the phone, letting out a tinkling laugh once it was received. "How could I forget?" Another pause, and Erik watched curiously as she pulled a song out of the stack and let her eyes roam over it for a minute before shaking her head and shoving it back in its place.

"How's that going, by the way? I've heard a few things on the news… Oh, really? That doesn't sound good… No, everything's fine over here." The worry that had suddenly creased her brow disappeared just as quickly, chased away by a soft, almost shy, smile, and her cheeks tinted a dusty rose color as she glanced down at the floor. Erik was suddenly, for some inexplicable reason, extremely curious to know what had caused such a look. "He's great. Completely capable of keeping me alive, I promise."

Wait… What? Surely they couldn't be talking about…

"Aside from the fact that I'm currently not speaking to the bastard, yeah, we get along great!" The smile stretched even wider, morphing from the shy, secretive one that had so caught Erik's attention to the playful grin he had become more accustomed to.

Apparently they _were_ discussing him… Had he really been the cause of that adorable little blush? Who was she talking to? …And when the hell had he started using words like 'adorable' to describe things?

Christine's laughter drew his attention back to her. "No, I'm only joking… Don't worry about it, it's a long story. Well, once this whole thing blows over and you get some free time, you can come visit and see for yourself! I miss you."

Erik felt a strange, uncomfortable feeling wash over him at those words.

"All right, I suppose I'll let you go back to your work now. Wouldn't want you accused of slacking off. Love you too!"

The uncomfortable feeling increased ten-fold and he was suddenly able to recognize it for what it was: jealousy.

"Bye, Daddy!"

The powerful relief that he felt at that one simple word had him completely disgusted with himself, but he tried to push the feeling aside. He watched with interest as she deposited her cell phone and continued her searching through the disorganized mass of sheet music. After silently observing her for a little while longer, he decided to announce his presence.

"Are you really not speaking to me? That's a bit harsh, I would think."

Christine gasped, whirling around to face a bemused Erik, and suddenly felt herself toppling off the piano bench. She closed her eyes and waited to feel the impact of the floor, but it never came. Instead, she felt a pair of strong hands grasp her waist and steady her.

She slowly opened her eyes and met Erik's gaze as he regarded her, his face calm but his eyes holding a strange glint to them.

"How is it," he began, lifting Christine effortlessly back onto the piano bench but not removing his hands from her waist, "that when you dance you are the epitome of grace, and yet any other time-"

"I'm a total klutz?" Christine finished for him. Erik could only nod. "You know, I'm not sure, but Meg and I actually have a few theories on the matter." She seemed to have gotten over her surprise at his entrance and was now responding with the light-hearted confidence she always seemed to possess.

"What theory is currently in the lead?" Erik asked, vaguely aware that he should probably have let go of her waist by now but finding it far too difficult to make himself do so.

"Enchanted Pointe shoes," Christine declared solemnly. Erik let out a bark of laughter. "Either that, or the fact that I'm usually a chaotic sort of person, with my attention scattered over a lot of things at once, but when I dance I actually focus and pay attention to what I'm doing."

Erik glanced down, seeming to intently ponder this for a long moment. "My vote lies with theory number one."

"Ours, too!" Christine exclaimed. With a hand to her mouth to stifle her laughter, she turned around and resumed her earlier task of searching through the music, forcing Erik to reluctantly relinquish his grip on her.

"What are you looking for?" he asked as she once again grabbed a piece of music to look at.

Christine put the sheet back and continued to dig through her collection. "Something to use for my audition piece, but I'm having trouble finding a song that would work." Her brow furrowed as she discarded yet another song. "I need something challenging enough that it's impressive, but not so difficult that I can't have it polished in two weeks… and none of these seem to be working!"

"Would you like some help?" Erik offered, fighting back the urge to grin at her frustration.

She gave an excited gasp and clasped her hands together in front of her. "Oh, bless you, kind sir!" The thought of questioning how qualified he would be to assist her never even crossed her mind. Anyone who could sing the way Erik did was capable a thousand times over of helping her with this. With a beaming smile, she hopped lightly off the piano bench, doing a small twirl in mid-air and landing in one of her ballet positions, as if to prove to Erik that she did, indeed, possess a modicum of grace.

He only shook his head at her antics as he took her place on the bench. "What were you and your father talking about earlier, if you don't mind me asking? You looked worried."

Christine tilted her head to the side in the way which always made Erik think of a confused puppy, as if trying to recall what he was referring to, before comprehension spread across her features. "Oh. He's trying to put together a case against some big-time crime lord, but all of their main sources and witnesses keep getting killed off."

"They haven't made any threats on you and your father, have they?" Erik asked sharply.

Christine shrugged helplessly. "Daddy didn't mention anything, but he sounded kind of worried."

Erik only nodded, his eyes focusing away from her in thought. Christine stood patiently, humming a song under her breath, as she waited on Erik to select something. Finally, he stepped down from the bench and handed a song to Christine. She took it eagerly but felt her eyes widen as she studied it.

"Um… Erik? Isn't this song a bit difficult? I only have a couple of weeks, after all…"

"Nonsense," he declared abruptly. "It's just challenging enough to be interesting."

Erik gave an irritated sigh when Christine still looked unsure. "I could help you work through it, if that would make you feel any better?"

"Seriously?" she gasped, her eyes widening excitedly. Erik merely nodded. "Eek! Thank you so much!" Christine surged forward, about to wrap her arms around him in gratitude, but caught herself just in time and settled for grabbing his hands instead.

Erik only barely managed to keep himself from jerking back reflexively.

"Don't get too excited just yet," he laughed once he had calmed himself down. "For all you know I could be an abysmal teacher."

Christine made a face and shook her head as if the idea was completely ludicrous. "Please, Erik, from what I've seen you're ridiculously good at whatever you try to do, especially anything involving music."

"Yes, but teaching is a social activity, and my people skills, as you know, are utterly atrocious."

"But mine are so good they easily make up for your hermit-like tendencies, so we should be fine."

Erik rolled his eyes.

"So, should we go ahead and start a lesson?" Christine asked, bouncing up and down slightly in excitement.

"Not tonight. It's already pretty late and you haven't even had dinner. We'll start as soon as you get home from school tomorrow."

"But I'm not-"

"_Christine_..."

"Fine, fine... something to look forward to," Christine declared, squeezing his hands lightly and turning to step out of the library. "G'night, Erik!"

"Sweet dreams, Christine."

As soon as she shut the door behind her, Erik dropped his head into his hands.

What had he gotten himself into?


	9. Chapter 9

**Guarded Hearts**

_Any recognizable characters are property of Gaston Leroux or Susan Kay. I also don't own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and as far as I know Tom Waits is in ownership of himself. Unless, of course, he made some kind of deal with Lucifer of which I am currently unaware... which might explain his music..._

Hmm, technically this is part one of a rather extensive chapter, but I was too impatient for reviews to wait... Expect another update soon, though! And thanks so so much to my beta Goth Angel UK for helping out with this story!

"Again."

Christine turned to stare at Erik in disbelief. "Seriously? What was wrong with it this time?"

"You breathed in the middle of the phrase again," he explained in an emotionlessly calm voice.

"That phrase is really freaking long, Erik. I'm physically incapable of singing all of it without a breath."

"Mentally incapable, perhaps, but certainly not physically."

"What are you talking about?"

"You breathed out of habit, because it felt comfortable to do so, not because you actually needed to."

Christine threw her hands into the air. "I breathed because my brain was deprived of oxygen! My face was turning blue, for heaven's sake!"

Erik gave a dismissive snort, his hand drifting unconsciously towards the pocket that housed his Punjab lasso as pictures played through his mind of what an oxygen-deprived face actually looked like. "Must you always be so dramatic?"

"Must you always be so insufferable?" Christine retorted bitingly.

Erik crossed his arms, his emotions warring between amusement and aggravation. "I do believe I gave you fair warning when it came to my social abilities…"

"Yeah, well, who knew 'abysmal' could be such a gross understatement?"

"I did not agree to teach you simply to keep you company and tell you how wonderful you sing," he declared in a cold tone. "I am a perfectionist, and if you want my help, then you are going to have to do exactly as I ask, when I ask it, and stop questioning me at every turn. If this is too much for you, then you can always reject my offer, and I will be none the worse for it. _You_, however, will be doing yourself a great disservice. Your voice is too good for you to be content with mediocrity."

The petulant glare that had been plastered onto Christine's face suddenly disappeared. "Wow… You know, I think that's the first time you've even come close to complimenting me, Erik… I'm flattered!"

"Yes, well, glad I could help," he muttered dismissively. "Now start the song over, and this time pay attention to where you're breathing."

Mollified from her earlier irritation by Erik's subtle praise, Christine took a deep breath and began the song again. Erik, who had been accompanying her on the piano, quickly stopped playing and cut her off.

"Oh, for the love of… I swear I didn't breathe that time!"

"No, but you did let your high G go flat at the end. Try it again."

Christine gave a tired sigh and ran a hand through her hair. "Erik, come on. I've sung this one part about thirty times already."

"Again."

"We've not even made it a third of the way through the song yet!"

"Again."

"Can't I just-"

"_Again_."

"That's it," Christine snapped suddenly, throwing her sheet music down and glaring at Erik. "If you say 'again' one more time, I'll-"

"You'll what?" Erik hissed. His eyes flashed with rage, glowing an unnaturally bright yellow that seemed to illuminate the sockets of his mask, and his entire body stilled as he stared at her. He looked so completely lethal and predatory in his anger that, for the first time, Christine was truly and utterly terrified of the man whom, for all her initial joking descriptions of him, had only ever intimidated her before. She felt herself taking a few unconscious steps backwards until she was pressed against the wall, watching in trepidation as Erik took two deep breaths… and suddenly burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"Um… Erik?" Christine asked warily, looking at him as one might look at an escaped mental patient clad in nothing but dynamite.

Erik could only shake his head, holding up a finger to instruct her to wait a moment, as he continued laughing. "I apologize," he gasped as soon as his fit had somewhat subsided. "That was just… an interesting experience…"

"What was an interesting experience?" Christine asked, a pale eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"Being threatened by a 5'6" ballerina wearing a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt."

Christine felt herself grinning in spite of her bewilderment, Erik's uncommon laughter proving to be highly infectious. "Don't mock. I can be scary!"

"Quite," he quipped wryly. "I am petrified in the face of your wrath."

Christine laughed as she bent down to gather the sheet music she had so violently discarded. "Good. Glad to hear it."

"Now, we are going to try this again, this time without the temper tantrum, if you please. If you truly want to perfect this song, you will follow my instructions without a word, because you are not a four-year-old, and because if you voice one more complaint I am going to break all of your Tom Waits CDs."

Christine let out a horrified gasp and stared at Erik in a mixture of outrage and grudging admiration. "You fight dirty!"

"You sound surprised, mademoiselle. Do I look like someone who would waste time fighting fair?" Erik exclaimed, throwing his arms out wide and gesturing towards himself in a sudden show of theatrics. Clad in black from head to toe, with skin so pale that his dark blue veins were clearly visible as they snaked their way along the corded muscles of his arms and neck, he barely looked human. The effect was enhanced even more since the dim lighting in the library hid the contours of his mask and made his face look like nothing more than a pair of gleaming golden eyes hovering above a pale marble jaw.

"I'm a villain, remember?" he asked darkly, one corner of his lips twisting up into a sneer and revealing a pointed white canine that Christine could practically imagine sharpening and extending past his lip as Erik declared himself a member of the Undead. She gulped and pressed herself further against the wall, which only caused Erik's sneer to grow as he held his pose, arms held away from his body, head tilted at a roguish angle that threw a strand of inky black hair across his eye, obscuring the cat-like orb and blending into the darkness of his mask, and the other eye narrowed devilishly and centered intently on Christine.

He looked like something straight off the cover of a dark, sexy, blood-filled comic book. _Villain, indeed_…

Christine took several breaths, willing herself to ignore the fear and… other emotions… that his appearance instilled in her, and finally managed to maneuver her face into a carefree smile. "Alright, V. I promise to be a model student for the rest of the lesson, and I will continue to sing that one freaking phrase as many times as necessary to gain your ridiculously high-standard seal of approval. For Tom's sake."

Erik slowly allowed his arms to drift back to his sides and the deadly sneer was replaced with a look of confusion. "V?"

"What?"

"You called me V…" Erik murmured, studying her curiously.

"Oh. V for Villainous, of course."

He continued to stare.

"Oh, come on, Erik… How many movies have you seen before in your life?"

Erik blinked in surprise at the question that, to him, seemed to have come entirely out of nowhere.

"Wait, let me guess! Two? Both on the same night and only made available to you through severe coercion?"

"Your point, mam'selle?" Erik asked coldly, wondering why her accusation was managing to make him embarrassed over something he'd never paid the slightest bit of attention to in the past.

"C'mon, Erik. You've worked in like eighteen different professions, and you're completely fluent in two languages. Clearly, there've been some times in your life that could have been spent watching movies."

"Six, actually."

Now it was Christine's turn to be confused. "What?"

"I'm completely fluent in six languages, not two."

"Six? …_Six_?"

Erik nodded, holding a hand up and ticking them off on his fingers. "French, English, Farsi, Russian, Italian, and Maori."

"Maori?" Christine echoed.

"I spent a few years in a small village in New Zealand," he explained calmly. "I also speak some Portuguese," he added as an after-thought, "but not enough to be considered fluent."

"Wow… And I've been smug all these years for speaking English, Swedish, and like five words in German… I'm suddenly feeling horribly inadequate…"

"Ah, well, my plan was successful, then," Erik teased with a smirk that slowly faded as Christine's only response was to stare at him in wonder. "Yes?" he snapped, fighting back the urge to shift uncomfortably under her gaze.

"Hm?" Christine shook her head, as if waking from a daze, and blushed. "Oh, sorry… I just… You're…"

"I'm what?" Erik snarled, instinctively on edge from her scrutiny.

"You are positively the most fascinating person I have ever met."

Erik stared at her in surprise, unsure how to respond. Was he meant to feel insulted by that comment, or flattered? After a long, awkward pause, Erik suddenly turned around and sank onto the piano bench. "From the beginning of the piece."

Christine smiled at his evasive response, retrieved the sheet music she'd discarded earlier, and prepared to sing.


	10. Chapter 10

**Guarded Hearts**

_All recognizable characters are property of Gaston Leroux or Susan Kay. I don't own V for Vendetta, either._

Haha, I'm excited about this chapter... It's actually got a slight bit of substance to it! Hope you enjoy. As always, a HUGE thanks to my beta, Goth Angel UK for her incredible talent and thorough attention to detail. She totally rocks, and if any of you get the chance, you should definitely check out her profile. She's got some great stuff written. Now... Where were we? Oh, yes.

The rest of the lesson passed without event. True to her word, Christine followed Erik's instructions without so much as a murmur, though he noticed irritation flashing in her eyes on more than one occasion. This worried him slightly because, in the weeks he'd been staying with her, he had never seen Christine acting anything but happy, and he was quite curious as to what had caused her uncharacteristic mood.

He stayed in the library for a while after the lesson, pulling one of his unfinished compositions out and making some adjustments to it, before he finally decided to venture out. As he entered the living room, he was met with the sight of Christine curled on her side on the couch, her arms wrapped tightly around her stomach and her face drawn with pain.

"Christine!" he exclaimed, rushing towards her in alarm. "Are you all right?"

She glanced up in surprise and tried to straighten up a little before giving up and slumping back down with a grimace. "Ever been stabbed in the gut?"

"Twice, actually," Erik responded thoughtlessly, letting his hands hover over her in a desire to help, but not daring to actually touch her.

"You know the answer to your question, then," Christine stated wryly, tightening her hold on her stomach.

Erik wondered briefly if she had accepted his words as the truth or simply thought he was making a joke, but decided that it wasn't the best time to comment. "What's wrong? It's nothing serious, is it?"

"Oh, no, I'll be fine," she muttered, though at the moment she looked anything but. "I think I just found the source of my earlier mood-swings and bitchiness, that's all…"

"But your stomach wasn't bothering you earlier," he stated, studying her quizzically.

"And also why I've been ready to kill for a chocolate milkshake all day…" Christine continued to herself, ignoring Erik's comment. She gave a sudden groan and curled into an even smaller ball, causing Erik to grind his teeth in frustration at his helplessness.

"Christine, you _have_ to tell me what's wrong," he ordered, glaring down at her.

"Don't worry about it, Erik. I'm fine."

"_Christine_…"

Christine shifted over so that her back was facing Erik. "I swear I'm fine. It's nothing I'm not used to."

"Christine, please talk to me! This doesn't look like something you should be—Oh…" he trailed off, comprehension slowly spreading across his features as he pieced several clues together. "Oh!" The portion of his face that was visible suddenly turned an angry red. "Ah. Right. Um, anything I could, err, get you? To help, that is." He shifted awkwardly and brought his hand up to rub at the back of his neck. "Some morphine, perhaps?"

Christine let out a weak laugh, thinking it was rather cute that her fearsome bodyguard was so terrified of the menstrual cycle. "Maybe later. Right now I'd settle for some Midol… I think there's a bottle in the bathroom closet."

"I'll be back in a moment," he murmured gently, rising to his feet in a fluid motion and disappearing into the bathroom. He returned with two small pills and a glass of water and handed them to Christine. She accepted them gratefully and rose up enough to swallow them, making a face and shuddering as soon as both were down. Erik gave her a puzzled look.

"I can't stand taking pills," Christine explained in response to his unspoken question. "Something about the feel of them sliding down my throat just creeps me out…"

For some illogical reason, Erik found this quirk to be rather endearing. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

Christine smiled gratefully at him and shook her head. "No, I should be good once the pills kick in. Thanks, though."

"My pleasure," Erik murmured sincerely. "Well, if you're sure you'll be okay, I'll be in the library, so just call if you need anything else."

"Wait!" Christine called, reaching out and grabbing a handful of his shirt before he could walk away.

Erik's eyes latched onto the delicate hand fisted in his shirt, liking the way her crimson fingernails contrasted with the black fabric.

"You have to stay and keep me company!" Christine continued, oblivious to the fact that Erik was now picturing those same fingernails running down his naked chest and skirting teasingly around the waist of his trousers before hooking into them and pulling him against her… _Stop that! _Erik mentally ordered, slamming his eyes shut and sucking in a breath, fiercely fighting against his sudden wave of arousal. When had he turned into such a disgusting lecher?

"C'mon, Erik. Please? We can hang out and watch a movie. It'll be fun!"

"What?" Erik asked, opening his eyes and meeting her gaze guiltily. "Oh, of course. What movie would you like me to put on?"

Christine nibbled her lower lip as she thought, drawing Erik's gaze to her mouth like a magnet. "Oh! How about V for Vendetta? Something tells me you're going to love it…"

Erik gave a distracted nod and turned to search through her movie collection for the selected DVD. Once he had started the movie playing, he settled himself down on the floor, resting his back against the edge of the couch near Christine's head. This was partly out of consideration for her, giving her the entire couch to stretch out on, if she felt so inclined, and partly because of the knowledge that he could pay much closer attention to the movie if Christine wasn't in eyesight.

That was, of course, until she reached out and swept her fingers through the hair falling down in front of one of his eyes. Erik jerked in surprise and twisted his head around so fast he heard something pop, not seeming to notice the fact that his hand had trapped Christine's wrist in a bruising grip.

"Oh," Christine began, yet again feigning ignorance to his violent reaction. "Your hair isn't dyed!"

Oh, sure, because that was how he'd been expecting her to respond. His complete confusion must have shone through in his eyes, because Christine hastened to elaborate.

"Your hair color is so uncommon, especially with your skin being so pale and all, that I always just kind of assumed that you dyed it."

"And you could tell that I don't just by feeling it?" Erik asked suspiciously.

"Well, yeah. Your hair's so damn soft it's obvious you don't do anything to it," Christine explained patiently. "Plus, you don't have the slightest hint of roots. Now be quiet and turn around, the movie's starting."

Erik wordlessly released her hand and obeyed her, bringing his head back around to watch the screen. A few minutes into the movie, he felt Christine once again reach out to stroke his hair, and this time he managed to temper his reaction down to just a slight jump and a tensing of his muscles. He sat completely still, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling as those same crimson nails he'd been so fascinated by earlier ran through his hair and traced lightly across his scalp.

"Christine…" he began, licking his suddenly dry lips nervously, but was instantly shushed.

"Watch the movie," Christine ordered imperiously, her fingers never slowing in their explorations.

_Easier said than done when you're doing _that_! _Erik thought. Surprisingly, though, he soon found that he could actually focus on the film. Despite the fact that the gentle fingers softly massaging his scalp or running through the length of his hair brought his hormonal thoughts from earlier prominently into his mind, he also found the sensation to be strangely soothing, and soon felt himself relaxing back against the couch, even going so far as to rest the back of his head against Christine's knees. However, he was sure that had it been any other movie, he would never have heard a word of it. As it were, though, V for Vendetta held such an aspect of familiarity that he found himself riveted.

The movie ended far too soon in Erik's opinion and he silently cursed as he felt Christine cease her gentle caresses and sit up. To his surprise, though, instead of standing, she simply repositioned herself and placed both hands against his head, running her fingers through his hair soothingly. Erik wanted to purr with pleasure.

"I do so love that movie…"

Erik gave a small smile, his eyes slipping closed contentedly. "It was quite powerful, though I must admit I've been surprised by your movie choices so far."

"Yeah? How so?"

"Well, you've now made me watch two action films, both of them rather dark and graphic, and something so depraved that I cannot even think to come up with a genre for it." Christine let out a giggle at this description. "Correct me if I'm wrong, though, but don't women typically prefer dramas or romantic comedies, or at least films with some kind of attractive male actor as the lead?"

Christine let out a sigh and shook her head. "You don't exactly have broad-minded views on women's tastes, do you?"

"I'm just going by what everyone says," he responded somewhat defensively, feeling self-conscious over the reminder of how little he truly knew of women. He'd had practically no experience with them in the past apart from the few female clients that had deigned to accept a masked man as their bodyguard. None of them had been anything like Christine, and his previous experiences had been less than flattering towards the opposite sex.

"Oh, good," Christine exclaimed caustically, stilling her hands but not removing them from his hair, "because I just _love _getting stereo-typed!"

Erik let out a muffled curse. He'd walked right into that one, hadn't he?

"I apologize," he declared sincerely, feeling ashamed for his close-minded statement. "It was wrong of me to assume such a thing based on the general opinions of society and my own limited experience."

"Are you always so formal?" Christine asked, releasing a giggle that let him know he was forgiven and resuming her absent-minded playing with his hair. Apparently it was a rhetorical question, because she didn't give him any time to respond before she continued, "I accept your apology, Erik, though you were at least right about part of it. I do love a good romance movie best, but that doesn't mean I can't be a bit eclectic in my tastes. I was actually picking some of my _manlier _films out of consideration for you."

Erik winced at the jab at his earlier chauvinism, unintentional though it was.

"Although I do happen to think that V is totally sexy," Christine added when Erik made no response to her taunt.

Erik turned around to stare at her incredulously, dislodging Christine's hands in the process. "V is a middle-aged, severely scarred burn victim who wears fully-covering clothing and a Guy Fawkes mask throughout the entire movie. Explain to me why you consider that to be 'sexy'?"

"Oh, Erik…" Christine murmured, shaking her head from side to side. "Sexual appeal doesn't always have to be about physical appearance. Sometimes it's all about the persona."

"Persona?"

"V is intelligent, extremely well-spoken, witty, and a total gentleman. He has that kind of intellectual charisma that makes girls fantasize about sleeping with their professors."

Erik bristled and made a mental note to pay close attention to all of Christine's male professors in the future.

"But he also has that dark, dangerous air about him, you know? He's exciting, rebellious, and completely lethal, and every girl has to fall for a bad boy, at least once in her life. So with those combined qualities, how can he not be sexy?" Christine gave him a lop-sided grin. "He reminds me of you, you know. Except your mask is way cooler than his."

The warm feeling that had enveloped Erik at Christine's roundabout way of calling him sexy fled instantly and was replaced by a guarded wariness and apprehension. That was the first time in the entire month he'd been living with her that Christine had said a word to him about his mask.

The grin slowly slid from Christine's face as she noticed Erik's shift in mood, and her breath caught once she realized her faux pas. For a moment, she was tempted to just change the subject and cover it up, but then she decided that she was done with pretending not to notice things and that it was better to just get it all out in the open and be done with it. With that decision strengthening her resolve, she let her gaze lock with his and waited patiently for him to respond.

Erik noticed the sudden determination shining from her eyes and inwardly cursed it. So they were finally going to do this, were they? After giving himself just a few brief moments to freely panic, Erik steeled his nerve and prepared to speak. "Why haven't you ever asked me about it?" he inquired quietly, dropping his gaze to stare at his slightly trembling hands. "It's usually the first thing people want to know when they meet me."

"I figured that if you wanted me to know, you'd tell me," Christine responded just as softly. "It's not my place to go prying into your personal life, and just because that aspect happens to be more noticeable than any others, it doesn't change that fact. I'm assuming you've got a good reason for wearing it."

Erik gave a sharp jerk of his chin that passed for a nod. _Good _wasn't really a word he would use to describe it, but it was a reason nonetheless.

A tense silence passed between them, and then Christine tentatively opened her mouth to speak. "Were you burned or injured, or something?"

"No. I was born this way." Erik's voice, usually warm and sensual, came out cold and harsh, his words clipped short as if they hurt him to speak.

"Oh…" Christine glanced down awkwardly. "How did your parents-"

"You know the expression, '_a face only a mother could love_'?" Erik interrupted bitterly. Christine gave a slight nod. "Well, I should have been so lucky."

A horrified gasp managed to escape Christine despite her best efforts to stifle it. "And there wasn't anything the doctors could-"

Erik once again cut her off before she could finish her query. "My body rejected the skin grafts, and any attempts at fixing it surgically just seemed to make things worse," he stated, his voice suddenly dead as he pictured the angry scars that now marred his already hideous face. "Maybe if I'd been younger when they made their attempts, but my mother could never have afforded it even if she'd wanted to, and by the time I was old enough to pay for the operations myself…" he trailed off and pressed a hand to his mask unconsciously, shuddering at some remembered pain. "Eventually I just stopped trying."

"Oh, Erik…" Christine reached her hands out towards his face. Erik tensed and pulled away, but relaxed as all she did was bury her hands in his hair once again and move his head so that he was staring into her eyes. He searched the brilliant blue orbs carefully for any signs of pity, suspicion, or disgust, as were the usual reactions to any mention of his face, but all he saw was compassion and sorrow, and maybe something else that he couldn't quite identify, but that had his heart racing nonetheless as he gazed upon it.

Suddenly, before Erik even realized what she was doing, he felt her hands slip out of his hair and down to his shoulders as her arms circled his neck and she slid from the couch, pulling him closer, so that her body was pressed against his and her face was buried in the crook of his neck.

Erik lost the ability to speak.

For the longest time, he did nothing. He simply knelt on the ground and stared at the golden-blonde hair falling over his chest as he tried to comprehend what was happening. Then, finally, he felt his arms lift and wrap around Christine's slim waist, pulling her against him as tightly as he could without bruising her ribs.

His mind whirled in astonishment as an almost unbearable mass of emotions welled up inside him at the simple gesture which most people took for granted all their lives… She had just given him his first hug…


	11. Chapter 11

**Guarded Hearts**

_All recognizable characters are property of Gaston Leroux or Susan Kay. Except for Scooby Doo, who belongs to... someone else..._

"And five, six, seven, eight… One, two, plié, four, five, six, point your toe!" Meg chanted rhythmically, calling out counts, commands, and criticisms in tempo as she surveyed Christine's dancing.

The two of them, along with about fifteen other dancers, were stationed in the corridor outside the auditorium, waiting for their turn to be called in to audition.

"Five, six, arabesque… Extend your leg more! There we go." Meg, who had (according to her mother) been dancing before she could walk, had long ago been appointed by Christine as a sort of unofficial dance coach. "Good, nice turn. Now the jump… Watch your facial expressions! Carmen is supposed to be sensual and seductive, and if that's the face you make when you're trying to seduce someone, then we're in serious trouble."

Christine stopped mid-jeté and collapsed on the floor in a fit of giggles. Several of the girls who had been watching their impromptu rehearsal joined in.

"It would at least explain why she's still single, despite how good she looks in a leotard," a girl with light-brown hair declared teasingly.

Erik, who had been watching the entire scene with undisguised interest from the air vents, as usual, silently nodded his agreement. Spandex was quite flattering on Christine, unfortunately for him.

"Ah, c'mon, Jammes. I don't scare them off with my expressions," Christine defended, scooting over to rest against the wall and crossing her legs in front of her as she grabbed a drink from her bag and sipped some down. "It's just that none of the boys around here are interesting enough. Or if they are, they're not interest_ed _enough, you know?"

"Well, maybe if you'd lay off the caffeine some, one of them might actually stand a chance at keeping up with you," another girl, this one with curly black hair, added in.

Christine eyed the frappucino she had just been sipping from speculatively. "Give up coffee for a man? Are you crazy, Sorelli? This stuff sustains me!" she exclaimed, drinking some more and making an exaggerated moan of approval for added effect.

Erik pressed a hand to his forehead and stifled a curse.

"Besides, is it so wrong of me to want a guy who can keep up with me on his own, without me having to have a handicap?"

"Um, Chris, I wouldn't really consider _not_ drinking caffeinated beverages by the gallon to be a handicap… But no, there's nothing wrong with setting high standards for yourself," Meg said softly. She watched her best friend carefully, remembering the time Christine had confided in her how frightened she was that her finicky nature and short attention span for guys would mean that she would never have a meaningful relationship. Christine simply met the girl's serious green gaze and shot her a wink. Meg gave a small smile and relaxed back against the wall.

"Yeah," the brunette from earlier, Jammes, agreed. "Hold out for a good one, babe. Not all of us are so blessed with sexy Irishmen who are head-over-heels for us, anyway." She leveled a sideways glance at Meg, who simply beamed back in response.

"Huh, speak of the Devil…" Sorelli muttered, inclining her head towards the doorway.

The others turned around to see Daniel and Nick making their way down the corridor towards their group.

"Mm, he is a handsome devil, isn't he?" Meg purred, her eyes drinking in his muscular frame, currently encased in jeans and a dark-green polo. Shaggy red hair fell before his warm hazel eyes, and he flipped it out of the way unconsciously as he set his French horn case down and lifted Meg up from the floor to engulf her in a spirited embrace.

"Hey, Sweetie!" Meg called happily, planting a kiss on his cheek. "We were just talking about you."

"Oh yeah? What about me?"

"Nice, flattering topics, of course. Like the Lucky Charms undies you've had since you were twelve that you still like to wear for good luck, despite the fact that they're way too small," Christine answered, turning her face up and batting her eyelashes sweetly at Daniel.

He glared venomously back at her, his face turning almost as red as his hair as everyone erupted into laughter around him. He turned back to Meg to stare at her accusingly, but all she could do was shrug.

"She saw them when she was at the apartment one day and wouldn't leave me alone till I told her. You know how she gets!"

"So are you wearing them today, mate? After all, we did just get finished with chair tryouts. I figure you'd want good luck for that," Nick said, turning and giving Christine a conspiratorial wink.

Erik was really starting to hate the boy. So was Daniel, for that matter, if the look he shot him was any indication.

"How were chair tryouts, by the way?" Meg asked quickly in the hopes of steering the topic away from her boyfriend's Lucky Charms underwear.

"They were fine," Daniel responded, giving her a grateful smile. "I'm glad they're over with, so I can stop practicing that damn audition piece."

"I know how you feel. It's only been two weeks and I'm already just about sick of this routine," Meg declared, all of the dancers around her nodding their agreement.

"Giry?" a woman called, poking her head out of the auditorium and glancing around the corridor.

"I'm right here," Meg answered, waving a hand at the woman before turning back to her friends. "Right. Wish me luck, then."

"Knock 'em dead, Babe," Daniel ordered, pulling her in for a quick kiss.

"Rupture a kidney!" Christine called cheerfully as her friend pranced away, earning her an over-the-shoulder grin from Meg and bewildered looks from everyone else. "What? It's an inside joke," she defended, meeting their gazes evenly. "Break a leg is so cliché, and the sentiment is the same, isn't it?"

Her friends gave her bemused looks and refrained from responding.

Christine watched until the door fell shut behind Meg, then glanced up at Daniel and patted the floor beside her in invitation. He sank down and rested his head against the wall, shooting Christine a side-long look.

"You're a rotten bitch. You know that?"

Christine let out a snort of laughter, reaching over to ruffle his hair playfully. "Ah, c'mon, Danny Boy. You know I'm only teasing you."

"I know, I know," he responded with a put-upon sigh. "I really wish you wouldn't, though."

"As Meg's semi-adopted sister, I feel it is my right and duty to cause you as much grief as possible."

"How kind of you," he deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "Although I'd rather deal with you than her mother, any day. That woman is terrifying!"

Christine laughed. "Yeah, Ms. Giry can come across a little… scary… But she's really just a softy."

"I'd like to see you tell _her_ that…" Daniel murmured to himself.

Christine snorted. "No, thank you. I've seen the damage that cane of hers can do…"

Daniel let out a small laugh and glanced down, but not before Christine saw the flash of fear which went across his eyes.

She gave a slight grin and shook her head. "So, what are you boys doing down here, anyway?"

"I just came to wish Meg good luck, and I figured I'd wait around and walk back up to the apartment with her."

"Oh, okay. And Nick is here because…?" she asked, turning to look at Nick questioningly.

"Because he wanted to wish his Christine good luck on her tryout, and because he'd never pass up the opportunity to see her in a leotard," Nick answered for himself, giving her a roguish grin.

A strange rumbling noise that sounded almost like a growl floated down from the ceiling.

"Well, that's… sweet of you… I think," Christine responded absent-mindedly, staring up at the ceiling suspiciously. Unfortunately, no more clues were presented to her, and she was eventually distracted as Meg stepped out of the auditorium, her face flushed from exertion and a huge smile plastered to her face.

"I take it you did well, then?" Christine asked her grinning friend wryly.

"I do believe I was adequate, yes," Meg responded, tilting her head up and sniffing haughtily.

Christine simply cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Anyway, I guess we're going to head back to the apartment now. Good luck, you guys! I'm sure you'll do amazing!"

"Let's hope so," Christine agreed. "Thanks for helping me with the routine, Teach."

Meg patted her head in response before grabbing Daniel's hand and heading out of the building.

"Want me to stay and wait for you?" Nick asked, leaning against the wall beside Christine. "I could walk you back to your apartment when you're done."

Christine smiled gratefully and patted his leg. "That's sweet, Nick, but don't worry about it. I've still got vocal auditions after this, so it'll probably be a while before I leave."

Nick shrugged unconcernedly. "I don't have anything planned for today."

"No thanks, darlin'. You go on ahead. I'll be fine."

Nick slumped down and heaved a sigh of defeat. "I swear, woman… You sure don't make it easy on a guy, do you?"

Christine simply gave him an enigmatic smile and a light push towards the door. "Bye, Nick. Thanks for stopping by."

Grumbling slightly to himself, he turned and shuffled away.

"I don't know what your problem is, Chris," Jammes declared as soon as Nick had left. "I find him plenty interesting!"

Christine just laughed and stood up to run through her routine again. She had only been at it for a few minutes when a woman came and summoned her in.

Erik, once again cursing his decision to watch over Christine from the ventilation system, crawled silently through the dusty tunnels after her. Once he got to the vent leading into the auditorium, he maneuvered his way out of it and onto the network of rafters that made up the ceiling of the spacious room.

Navigating the thin beams with uncanny balance and silent grace, he quickly worked his way over to where he had an unhindered view of the stage and crouched down to watch as Christine began her try-out routine.

Erik held his breath as the girl began to leap and stretch and twirl gracefully across the stage. Christine was not the best dancer at the university; not even close, actually. She wasn't bad, by any means, and she could certainly hold her own in classes, but Meg, Sorelli, and several of the other girls in their class far surpassed her. At that moment, however, Erik couldn't have cared less about those other, more talented girls. He was completely lost in her performance.

The judges seemed equally as impressed, or close to it, anyway, by Christine's routine as Erik and gave her encouraging nods as she finished up and left. She stopped for a moment to chat with Jammes and Sorelli and wish them luck on their routines, then made her way into an empty classroom to warm up a little before her vocal auditions.

She glanced around surreptitiously for any sign of her bodyguard but quickly gave up and started running through some scales and arpeggios.

"You shouldn't sing that high until you've warmed your voice a little more," Erik's voice declared suddenly, interrupting her in the middle of a scale.

Squinting in the direction she could almost pinpoint his voice as coming from, Christine noticed the vent in the ceiling and her eyes widened in comprehension.

"So, air vents, is it?" she asked nonchalantly, leaning back against a desk and crossing her arms.

Erik chuckled to himself, pushing aside the grate and swinging through the vent to land in front of her and give a theatric bow. "So the mystery has been solved. Congratulations, Mister Holmes."

"Wow… It's times like this that I remember how much more cultured than me you are. I would have gone with a Scooby Doo reference."

Erik cocked his head to the side questioningly, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smirk.

"Seriously, though, Erik… Why do you hide in the vents? I mean, wouldn't it be so much easier for you if you just… I don't know, stood in the back of the classroom all day or something?"

"Actually, no. I don't think it would be easier, for either of us. Then I would have to deal with getting gawked at all day, and you would have to fend off hundreds of instrusive questions about why you have a bodyguard, particularly a creepy-looking one who wears a mask. Is that honestly something you'd want to put up with?" Erik asked wryly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Christine blinked. "Err… Right. Point to you. But… I mean, it can't be comfortable up there, and I'm sure they wouldn't stare _that _much…"

Erik raised an eyebrow at her, and Christine had gotten good enough at reading his expressions that, even though she couldn't actually see him do it through the mask, the look in his eyes conveyed the sentiment well enough.

"Right. Yes, they would." She heaved a sigh and ran a hand through her hair tiredly. "Jeez. People suck. But does it really bother you that much when they stare? Aren't you used to it by now?"

"Would _you _get used to everyone you meet calling you a freak?" Erik asked darkly. "Just because I'm accustomed to being a pariah doesn't make it any more pleasant," he declared, sinking onto the desk beside Christine.

"Not _everyone_…" she muttered defensively, unsure how else to respond.

Erik let out a snort of laughter and turned to shoot her a side-long look.

"What? I've called you a lot of things, sure, but I _don't_ think freak has made its way in there… Yet…" Christine shot him a saucy grin and leaned over to bump him playfully and lay her head on his shoulder. Erik was seized with the sudden urge to envelope her in a hug like the one they had shared a week ago. The hug that had consumed almost all of his thoughts since that night.

_How utterly pathetic and attention-starved am I, that a simple hug can affect me so strongly? _he thought cynically, quickly pushing those thoughts out of his mind and drawing away from Christine. "C scale, in whole notes," he ordered suddenly, standing up and crossing to the opposite side of the room.

Christine, who had recently gotten accustomed to Erik's rapid changes in mood and thought, didn't even blink before standing up herself and beginning the scale. Erik spent the rest of the time coaching her through a thorough warm-up, pointedly not letting his thoughts stray from vocal exercises, until it was time for the vocal auditions to start.

As soon as Christine was called into the auditorium, Erik reclaimed his spot in the rafters and waited while she handed her music to the accompanist and exchanged a few words of arbitrary conversation with the new panel of judges.

Erik watched with baited breath as Christine finally started singing the solo piece that he had helped her work through every day for the past two weeks. He could tell that she was nervous, and silently cursed those nerves for affecting her performance. Where were the emotion and clarity she had sung with all those times in her library?

Suddenly, her crystalline blue eyes, which had previously been roaming over the empty hall, found his own golden ones and latched on, and immediately the notes of her song came out with a passion that surprised even him, as if watching Erik while she performed gave her the confidence she had needed to truly perform the piece.

As she continued singing at this new level of intensity, with her eyes glued to Erik's as if she were performing solely for him, Erik found himself completely enraptured.

He had, of course, seen Christine sing plenty of times before, throughout the month or so he'd been guarding her, but it didn't really compare to seeing her alone on the stage, with the bright lights shining down, creating a soft halo around her silvery-blonde hair and almost making her seem to glow with an ethereal light. _My angel…_

Erik's eyes widened in shock at his errant thought. Where the hell had that come from?

No, Christine was _not _his angel. Christine was barely even his friend. He would not let his thoughts stray down that path. Absolutely not. It made sense that he would have some small amount of feelings for her, considering she was the first woman in his entire life who'd ever given him even the smallest scrap of affection, but that was all. They weren't feelings of true attraction, and they would go away eventually! Or so he kept telling himself, at least…

Clenching his jaw and determinedly steering his mind away from that particular line of thinking, Erik waited for what seemed like an eternity for Christine to finish her audition and exit the auditorium.


	12. Chapter 12

**Guarded Hearts**

_All recognizable characters are property of Gaston Leroux or Susan Kay._

Aha, finally a decently punctual update from me! I'm so proud of myself. Ten points to anyone who can name the two songs referenced in this chapter, by the way. Hope you enjoy!

Edited to fix some things my amazing beta, Goth Angel UK, pointed out to me. And also a correction to my French, as pointed out by Irene Sharda, and for which I'm very grateful. Thanks to both of you for helping me out!

"_Understudy_? Carlotta's freaking _understudy_?"

"Oh, we're still on this subject, then?" Erik asked with apparent disinterest, glancing up from his book as Christine burst into the library.

"_Yes_, we're still on this subject! This catastrophe isn't the kind of thing a person can get over with just a ten-minute rant session!"

"Only ten minutes? Really? It felt much longer…"

Christine paused in her pacing and leveled him an icy glare.

"Sorry. I'm only teasing you. However, you got cast as one of the principal dancers, and they said you had first dibs on Micaëla if you turned down your ballet position, so I don't see why you're so upset."

"Oh, yes, silly me. How could I forget?" Christine deadpanned, then let out a long sigh and continued to pace. "It's not like I'm disappointed that I didn't get the lead…" She trailed off when she noticed Erik's skeptical expression. "Okay, fine, that's a complete lie. I've been _dying _for my chance as a lead ever since my freshman year, but that's not why I'm so pissed-off. I mean, it's _Carmen_! I absolutely adore this opera, and when am I going to get a chance to play a character this fun again?"

Erik responded with a perfunctory shrug and quickly buried his face in his book again.

"And did it have to be _Carlotta_?"

Truthfully, Erik had initially been quite irate upon discovering whom the judges had picked for the lead, and he still found himself quite displeased with the decision. He had heard Carlotta singing in class before, and the girl had nothing on Christine's angelic voice, especially now that Erik had been able to train it some. However, he had discovered that it was far more satisfying to watch the usually sunny Christine rant and rave about her displeasure than to make his own known. So now he had taken to brushing her off as a way of goading her into further irritation.

"I mean, I work my ass off and put up with your Nazi teaching regulations for half a month, and they go and give my spot to _Carlotta_?"

"_You can't always get what you want_," Erik began humming under his breath, refusing to look up from his novel.

Christine pretended not to hear him and plowed on. "Okay, fine, the girl's got an incredible range and probably the most powerful voice at our school, but she uses _way _too much vibrato and can only really sing in one style. Hell, she'd probably sing a minuet and a death-metal song the exact same way."

"I wasn't aware there was much demand for a classically trained death-metal vocalist," Erik remarked with polite interest, finally glancing up at Christine.

She stopped mid-stride and shot him a dangerous look.

Erik cleared his throat and waved his hand to urge her on. "My apologies, just a harmless remark. Anyway, heavy vibrato, no distinguishing between styles… Continue, please."

Christine stared him down a moment longer before rolling her eyes and resuming her angry pacing. "Not to mention that the girl is a grade-A bitch! She's a total diva, throws hissy-fits in practically every rehearsal, and acts with all the subtlety of a drunken walrus!"

"Koo-koo-kachu," Erik murmured, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a grin.

Christine halted again, planting her arms on her hips and looking down her nose at Erik. "You're mocking me," she declared, as if suddenly having had a great revelation.

"Oh, you noticed that, did you?" he asked unconcernedly, looking at her with barely hidden amusement.

Christine's lips twisted into a scowl, and she removed one hand from its menacing placement on her hip to point an even more menacing finger at her grinning bodyguard. "You do not mock someone in the middle of a rant!" she shouted, jabbing her finger for emphasis and advancing a few steps towards him. "You do not _speak _to someone in the middle of a rant, unless it is to express your sympathies and say useful things like: '_I'm sorry, Christine,' 'That's awful, Christine,' _or _'Yes, Christine, you sing _much _better than that horrid Carlotta! What on Earth were the directors _thinking_!' _Is that perfectly clear, Mr. Draven?"

Erik inclined his head slowly, his face contorted in an effort to keep a solemn expression.

"Right. Good. Where was I?"

"Carlotta is a drunken walrus," Erik supplied patiently, setting his book aside and steepling his fingers beneath his chin.

"Right, thank you." Christine gave him a curt nod of gratitude. "Not to sound conceited or anything, but I thought I did a damn good job at my audition! Hell, _you _even complimented me, and you're the biggest anal-retentive perfectionist I've ever met!"

Erik wondered briefly how offended that remark should make him.

"And just because Carlotta's parents are these famous Opera has-beens and they make all kinds of donations to the school, she gets cast instead! It's not fair!"

"Perhaps not, but there's not much you can do about it now," Erik declared sagely.

Without warning, Christine suddenly stomped over to her bodyguard, leaning over and bracing herself on the arms of the chair, so that he was effectively blocked in and her face was hovering inches from his.

"Listen, Mister, right now is not the time for you to spout all of your Jedi wisdom at me. At the moment, all I want for you to do is sit back, shut up, and let me vent my anger out on someone other than Meg for a change. She's so excited about being cast as the lead ballerina that I'd hate to drag her down with all my shouting. So will you _please _just be a good little boy and let me unload?"

Erik, who was much too distracted by the proximity of Christine's face and the sudden realization that her shampoo smelled like strawberries and vanilla, could only nod his head carefully, not quite sure what exactly he had just agreed to.

"_Thank _you," Christine sighed, patting his jaw and drawing away.

Her shampoo was only strawberry-scented, he decided then. The vanilla was from her body wash.

Christine resumed her agitated pacing in silence for a few minutes before suddenly throwing her arms into the air with a frustrated shriek and stomping out of the library.

"Where are you going?" Erik called after her warily.

"I need chocolate!" her voice echoed back, followed by the sounds of cupboards slamming and dishes being thrown around. "Do you want some brownies?"

"Err, no thanks," he shouted, trying to make himself heard over the cacophony of angry kitchen noises. "I could do with some strawberries, though…" he added quietly, then made a grimace and dropped his head into his hands as he realized what he had just said. He _would not _think like that.

"How 'bout a milkshake, then? The blender's good for taking out my anger. I like watching everything get pulverized!" Christine called down the hall to him. "I could make you a chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry one!"

Erik let out a groan and pressed his face harder into his hands. _Would. Not_.

"No, thank you. I'm not hungry, but you could make me one anyway if you still feel like pulverizing things. Maybe I'll have it later," he called in response, impressed that his voice had come out completely level.

"Psh, that's unlikely. I don't think he even eats," Christine murmured to herself, digging through her freezer for the ice cream.

"Of course I eat," Erik declared from right behind her.

She squeaked and jumped in surprise, spitting out a curse when she bashed her head on a shelf, knocking a box of Hot Pockets and a gallon of double chocolate ice cream out of the freezer as she did so.

Erik deftly caught both of the frozen items before they could land, probably rather painfully, onto Christine's toes.

"Why else do you think any of your actual groceries get used up, aside from this microwavable junk?" he asked, eyeing the Hot Pockets in his hand disdainfully.

"Food snob…" Christine muttered. "Oh, hey, there it is!" she exclaimed, snatching the tub of ice cream from Erik. She then placed it on the counter and set about scooping the contents out and into the blender.

"So," Erik began, returning the Hot-Pockets to their rightful place before leaning against the counter and crossing his legs in front of him. "Are you going to accept the role of Micaëla, or would you rather dance and come to terms with being an understudy?"

Christine shrugged, reaching up with the back of her hand to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I'll probably end up sticking with the dancers, I guess. That way I'll get to see Meg more, and there's still a tiny, miniscule sliver of a chance that Carlotta might get violently ill the week of the performance and I'd get to play the lead."

"You could always poison her, you know," Erik suggested idly.

Christine snorted. "C'mon, V. I may hate the girl, but I don't wish her dead."

"Oh, not enough to kill her, _chère_. Just enough to make her ill, as you said."

Christine blinked in surprise at the endearment Erik had just let slip, which seemed entirely out of character for him. As with so many things Erik did, however, she decided that the best way to acknowledge it was to pretend not to have noticed it at all. No matter how endearingshe found it.

"You know… Considering all the times she called me a toad my freshman year… I'm not nearly as opposed to that idea as I probably should be. Too bad I'd never get away with it…" she stated jokingly, glancing up from the ice cream as she finished scooping it and placed the lid back on.

Erik looked away thoughtfully, a devious glint appearing in his eyes. "Yes. Too bad…"

After pouring some chocolate syrup and milk into the pitcher, Christine started up the blender, effectively ending all conversation between them. Erik chuckled at the darkly satisfied look on Christine's face as she watched the twirling blades puree everything in their reach.

Once Christine felt the contents of the blender had been properly mutilated, she grabbed two cups out of the cupboard and poured the thick liquid into them.

"And the purpose behind asking me whether I wanted a milkshake or not, despite the fact that you had every intention of forcing one upon me anyway was…?" Erik asked, accepting the glass that had been thrust into his hand with barely hidden amusement.

"Purely to be polite. It would be rude not to offer you one."

"Yes, much more so than force-feeding me."

"Oh, stop that. At least try the damn thing before you start acting like it's such a trial," Christine ordered sternly.

With a raised eyebrow and a theatric sigh, Erik lifted the glass to his lips and took a delicate sip. After giving himself a moment to analyze the taste, he made a face and set it back down.

"What?" Christine exclaimed defensively. "Is it bad?"

"Not… _bad_, per se. Just, _extremely _chocolaty."

Christine gave him a blank look. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Well, for those of us who don't possess a super-human chocolate tolerance, it's not the most pleasant of tastes."

"Whatever. You're just a pansy."

"_Pardonnez-moi_?" Erik asked, eyes widened in surprise. Yet another word to add to the _'Adjectives Never Before Used to Describe Erik Draven'_ list.

Christine giggled and shook her head. "Come on. I need a movie to keep me distracted from my understudy woes. And if you hadn't been such an insensitive jerk earlier, I might have even let you pick. As it is, though, tonight is definitely a chick-flick night."

"You're cruel."

"You have no idea how much…" Christine muttered sinisterly, digging through her substantial collection of movies and giving a triumphant (and slightly maniacal) laugh as she found her copy of _Twilight_.

Erik eyed the cover warily. "Should I be afraid?"

"Oh, yes. You're going to hate me after this one…"

"Oh, good. Then I can stop feeling obliged to pretend to pay attention during your rants."

"Keep it up and we're watching _The Notebook_ next, sweetheart," Christine declared, putting the DVD on and walking back to claim her spot on the couch. Erik, feeling a bit sickened with himself for his lost-puppy tendencies, sat on the floor in front of her, resting his back against the couch and trying very hard to pretend that there was no ulterior motive to him choosing to sit there instead of beside her.

To his mixed chagrin and delight, though, Christine reached her hand out almost automatically and began absent-mindedly running her fingers through his hair. Well, ulterior motive or not, he certainly wasn't going to voice a complaint about her actions. With his mouth twisted up into a small smile, Erik settled back contentedly to watch the movie.

His interest lasted for all of five minutes before he decided that the film was obviously not marketed for his demographic, whatever that would be, and he quickly let his thoughts drift to other subjects - namely, Christine.

Erik didn't think he would ever get over the way Christine treated him. She acted so laid-back and happy with him, as if he really was just her roommate instead of a hideously deformed sociopath acting as her bodyguard.

She asked his opinion on things, she out and out _demanded_ his company most of the time, and she seemed to genuinely care about him. It was an amazing feeling, to have someone else he truly trusted and felt that he could let his guard down around, after so many years of just Nadir for company.

He loved Nadir like a brother, of course (not that he would ever tell him that), but sometimes the man felt more like a physical representation of his conscience than an actual friend. Plus, his constant teasing made him rather insufferable.

With Christine it was different, though. She had never seen Erik at his worst, and so had no reason to try and temper his behavior. Also, her teasing didn't seem to grate on his nerves nearly as badly as Nadir's. The more he got to know Christine, the more he found he was enjoying her company. If only his damn hormones would stop getting in the way…

"You're not paying the slightest bit of attention to the movie, are you?" Christine asked suddenly, leaning down and resting her chin on Erik's shoulder.

"My mind shut down about five minutes into it out of self-defense," Erik responded calmly, suppressing the shudder that threatened to run through him as her breath blew past his ear.

"Oh, fine. I give up," she said with a sigh, pointing the remote at the screen to turn the TV off. "I need to go ahead and get to bed, anyway."

Sweeping her hand through Erik's hair one last time, she rose from the couch and gave a languid stretch that had Erik tightening his fists until his knuckles turned white as he watched it.

"I'll think of a better way to punish you later," she declared, then paused suddenly and cocked her head to the side, as if re-evaluating what she had just said. "And a slightly less kinky way to phrase that, while I'm at it."

Erik snorted, unsure whether to be amused by her misspeak or angered that she had unwittingly added even more fuel to an ever-growing fire.

"I'll leave you to your thoughts now," Christine stated, pausing once again in the hallway and glancing back long enough to shoot him a saucy grin that showed exactly what kind of thoughts she expected him to be having. "G'night, V."

"_Bon nuit_, Christine," Erik gritted out through clenched teeth. _That little minx!_

With an airy giggle and a flirtatious wink, Christine finally turned and shut the door to her bedroom.

Erik collapsed back against the couch and dropped his head into his hands.

Something told him it was going to be a long night.


	13. Chapter 13

**Guarded Hearts**

_All recognizable characters are property of Gaston Leroux or Susan Kay_

A quick thanks to all of my AMAZING reviewers, who have made me happier than they will ever know, and also to my great and talented beta, Goth Angel UK for editing most of the suck out of my writing! You're all wonderful.

Also, points awarded for the previous chapter's references go as follows:

moonfirecat4 - 500 for catching I Am the Walrus, and an extra 20 for being so excited about it... Haha. For a total of 520 points.

middlekertz - 500 for getting the Beatles reference, with an added bonus of 50 for listing the year of release, and 300 for knowing the movie As Good As It Gets that I had actually forgotten about putting in there! Leaving her at a total of 850 points. Brava.

No One - 1,000 points for getting both the Beatles and Rolling Stones references! Congratulations! You make me happy.

And 50,000 points to everyone who reviewed the chapter. You all rock. Now then, on to the story...

Christine was dreaming. Not about something glamorous or exciting (as she would have liked), nor of something horrible and frightening (for which she was grateful), nor even of naked, sweat-covered bodies and tangled bed sheets (for which she was entirely disappointed, but not very surprised, seeing as she had never before had an erotic dream). Christine's current dream was… odd, as most dreams tended to be, but not at all unpleasant.

In the dream, she was on the dance floor in the middle of a grandiose ballroom, clad in a blue cotton dress and a dainty white apron, with a black ribbon pulling her silvery-blonde hair out of her face. With her was a creature one could only guess, if Christine's outfit was any clue, to be the Mock Turtle from Lewis Carroll's "Alice in Wonderland," itself clad in nothing but a bow tie. They were waltzing leisurely across the empty dance-floor to the cheerful tune of _Blue Danube_, which was being skillfully performed by an orchestra made up of various characters from The Muppets.

Oddly, this had become a reoccurring dream for Christine in recent years, and one she rather enjoyed having. The ballroom was beautiful, the music was enjoyable, and the Mock Turtle was a surprisingly good dance partner.

She was understandably vexed, then, when the feel of someone's weight shifting beside her on the bed pulled her out of her slumber. Her eyes fluttered open and she glanced around blearily, confused as to what could possibly have possessed her contact-phobic, entirely unapproachable bodyguard to crawl into bed with her in the middle of the night. When her vision finally adjusted to the dim lighting of the half-moon streaming through her open window, she was met with the sight of a man who was definitely _not _Erik crouching above her, holding a knife to her throat.

She released an instinctive shriek, but the knife-wielder had clamped his hand down over her mouth just in time, so it came out as little more than a muffled squeak.

"Calm down, girly. We ain't gonna hurtcha," he whispered in a gruff voice that was apparently intended to be comforting.

_We_? Christine released another muffled yelp of fear as she noticed a second man standing beside her window, watching his partner's actions with an impatient expression. Shocked into action by her discovery, Christine started thrashing about in an effort to dislodge her assailant, but instantly stilled as she felt the knife press against the hollow of her throat.

"No need to get so worked up, now. I promise we ain't here to do anythin' nasty to ya. We're just gonna hide ya somewhere for a little while to convince your daddy to leave our boss alone, all right? You got nothin' to be scared of, girly."

The bite of cold steel against her jugular and the dark, hungry way the man by the window was watching her made Christine rather less willing to believe those false comforts, but she lay still nonetheless, surveying both men with wide, frightened eyes and trying to steady her breathing. With a satisfied nod, the man removed the knife from her throat and reached back for a roll of duct-tape to secure her with. Christine took the opportunity to clamp her teeth down on the man's hand and dig her knees into his gut, effectively pushing him off her, and quickly scrambled over to reach his discarded knife. She had only just managed to brush her fingers against the hilt when the man grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her back against him.

"Listen, you little bitch," he snarled, grabbing the knife to press against her throat with one hand and grasping her shoulder in a bruising grip with the other. "I was told to be gentle with ya, but if that's the way you're gonna be—"

He never got the chance to finish his threat, as he was suddenly ripped away from Christine and slammed into the opposite wall so hard that the entire room shook.

The scream that had been building inside Christine died in her throat as she caught sight of Erik standing over the crumpled body of her attacker.

"Erik!" Her cry of gratitude turned into a shout of warning as the second attacker suddenly lunged towards Erik with his knife drawn out to strike. Erik whipped around to face him and, with an almost imperceptible flick of his wrist, landed his Punjab lasso around the man's throat.

The thug didn't even have time to register surprise before Erik gave the rope a sharp tug and he found himself falling to his knees before the masked man, clawing at his throat in a desperate attempt to take in oxygen.

Christine watched in shock as Erik calmly pulled the rope taut, cinching the noose tighter and tighter around the man's throat and watching with a cold, clinical expression as blood vessels burst in his eyes and the color slowly drained from his face.

"Erik! Stop it!" she cried out, finally finding her voice when her bodyguard showed no signs of stopping of his own volition. Surely he didn't mean to…

Christine gasped as Erik, appearing to register her presence for the first time, slowly met her gaze. She was shocked at the fierce, almost manic rage burning in his inhuman eyes, despite the chillingly blank expression present on his masked features, and unconsciously drew back, a frightened shiver raking through her body.

"You're killing him…" she whimpered, refusing to drop his gaze no matter how badly it unnerved her.

Erik blinked slowly, as if just realizing that Christine had spoken to him, and mechanically dropped his lasso onto the ground.

Christine felt a surge of relief that abruptly turned to alarm as the man Erik had just been choking the life out of suddenly collapsed into a crumpled heap almost identical to the one his companion still lay in. Erik didn't even spare him a passing glance, his hypnotic gaze still centered entirely on Christine.

"Are they..." Christine began weakly, the words sticking painfully in her bone-dry throat, "are they dead?"

"One can only hope," Erik replied darkly, and Christine felt another tremor rack through her. The cold, dead, hauntingly perfect voice did not belong to her Erik. This deadly creature standing before her was not the same man who had been teasing and joking with her only a few hours earlier.

"Did he hurt you?" Erik asked, advancing a step towards her.

Christine flinched and scooted back against her headboard.

Erik froze, his eyes flashing angrily as he noticed her reaction. "Very well," he declared coldly, his voice taking on a hissing, sibilant quality. "I'll just take care of those two, then."

Without sparing her a second glance, Erik turned on his heels, grabbed the prostrate bodies of her two attackers by their legs and dragged them out of her bedroom, somehow still managing to retain his cat-like grace despite his cumbersome burden.

He stopped when he reached the living room, dropping the men carelessly in front of the couch, and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He stopped mid-dial as he heard a slight rustling sound from outside the apartment door. Retrieving his Punjab lasso from his earlier victim's throat in an easy, practiced motion, he stalked over to the door and turned the dead-bolt, ripping it open without so much as a thought.

Standing before him was a copper-skinned man who was pointing a pistol at Erik's face and holding a fist in front of his dark eyes in an odd gesture that Erik recognized immediately as one he had taught the man himself.

"Nadir," he acknowledged, his voice still carrying that cold, lifeless quality that had so alarmed Christine. Lowering the noose he had previously held poised and ready, he turned silently and stepped back into the apartment, leaving the door wide open behind him.

Nadir, who had instantly recognized the manic glint in Erik's eyes, walked in cautiously, followed by four other people Erik had dismissively noted as members of their security agency.

"Is everything all right?" Nadir asked, careful to keep his voice even and calming as if he were talking to a wounded animal. "One of the silent alarms we have set up outside Ms. Daaé's apartment went off, so we came to-" he cut off abruptly as his eyes fell on the motionless bodies stretched across the floor. "Oh, Erik… You didn't," he breathed, turning to look at his friend with wounded eyes.

Erik responded with a sharp, humorless grin, and returned to unconcernedly coiling his noose up.

Nadir sank to the ground beside the two bodies, pressing his fingers against each of their wrists to check for a pulse, before hanging his head and releasing a deep, relieved sigh.

"I made a promise, Nadir," Erik stated quietly, and Nadir was relieved to hear some of the life returning to his voice. "Did you so doubt my word?"

Nadir turned his head up and gave Erik a warm smile. "Only for a moment." He stood then, turning to give his decidedly edgy co-workers a reassuring nod, and then faced Erik again. "As they say, old habits die hard. Forgive me my moment of distrust, old friend."

Erik nodded, slumping over slightly as the last of the feral bloodlust finally drained from his system.

"Is Christine all right?" Nadir asked, not missing the pained expression that flickered across Erik's features.

"As far as I could tell," Erik remarked in a voice that gave away nothing of his emotions. "You arrived here rather quickly, so I did not get much of an opportunity to check."

"Leigh, if you would go and make sure Ms. Daaé is well?"

Erik stiffened at his words but, at a sharp look from Nadir, grudgingly indicated the direction of her room.

"Try to get an official statement from her so we can save the police a trip, as well," Nadir added as a small, tough-looking woman nodded her head at Nadir and, careful to keep a wide berth between herself and Erik, started down the hallway.

Erik visibly relaxed when he saw who Nadir had sent. His friend gave him a curious, sideways glance, but decided not to comment. "The rest of you, get rid of these two, will you? I'll be down in a moment."

The other three men looked relieved to be given an excuse to leave Erik's intimidating presence, and they quickly set about handcuffing the unconscious men and half-dragging, half-carrying them out of the apartment.

Nadir closed the door behind them and placed a hand on Erik's back, shaking his head slightly when Erik stiffened and drew away.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, peering at him with obvious concern.

Erik raised an eyebrow, shooting Nadir a look that clearly stated how misplaced he felt that concern to be. The arrogant expression slipped away, however, when Nadir's face didn't change.

"I've not seen you like that in a long time, Erik."

Erik flinched slightly, breaking eye-contact and turning his back to Nadir.

"I was honestly amazed that you stopped yourself from killing them."

"_I _didn't," Erik replied coolly, turning over his shoulder to glance at Nadir, his eyes expressing the statement that he would not say aloud. _She did_.

Nadir's eyes widened in comprehension, and he ran a thoughtful hand over the dark stubble covering his jaw. "I am very curious to meet this girl," he muttered, almost to himself.

Erik's eyes jerked up as Christine's bedroom door creaked open and the woman from earlier stepped out.

"How is she?" he asked abruptly as soon as Leigh came into the living room.

"Christine is fine. A little shaken up, of course, but that's to be expected."

Erik's eyes flicked back to the bedroom instantly.

"Well, I guess we should go ahead and get those creeps taken care of. We'll do a sweep around the building, too, to make sure there aren't any others. Nice work, as always, Phantom," Nadir remarked with a teasing grin.

Erik lifted the corner of his mouth up in a half-hearted smirk at the use of his old nick-name, but didn't spare Nadir a glance.

Nadir made a note of his actions but once again didn't comment, exiting the apartment without a word.

Erik waited until the door clicked shut, then took a deep breath to steel himself and slowly made his way into Christine's bedroom, knocking timidly on the door-frame to announce himself.

Christine was sitting on the edge of her bed with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and as he entered she shrank back and tightened the covers around her. Erik flinched and tried very hard not to look like someone had just struck him.

He hovered uncertainly in the doorway, holding his breath as Christine simply stared at him. He almost collapsed in relief when, apparently assured that Erik had reverted back to his normal self, all the fear suddenly fled her eyes and she patted the space beside her in invitation.

He apprehensively closed the distance between them and sank onto the bed, letting out a soft gasp of surprise as Christine suddenly flung her arms around his neck and buried her face against his chest. Blinking a few times to clear his shock, Erik hesitantly brought his arms around her in return, one wrapping around her waist and the other coming up to stroke her hair soothingly.

"Thank you," Christine murmured into his chest, tightening her grip on him. Erik felt his heart squeeze almost painfully in response.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly, pulling away slightly so he could survey her.

Christine gave a weak nod, but Erik barely noticed, his eyes drawn to the bandage at the base of her neck.

"Oh, that's nothing," she explained quickly, reaching up to pull the bandage off. "His knife just nicked me when you pulled him off. See?" She tilted her head to place her neck in the light, revealing a shallow cut right in the hollow of her throat that seemed to follow the indentation of the bone there, appearing in the shape of a V.

"V for Victorious, right?" she joked weakly, but when Erik looked at her there was no humor in his eyes. Christine sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm fine, Erik. I promise. It was just a scratch."

"If you are sure, then," Erik stated grudgingly, reluctantly pulling himself away from her and heading towards the door. "I'll let you get back to sleep. Good night, Christine," he murmured sweetly. He stopped, though, as she made a soft noise of protest, and turned to look at her questioningly.

"Do you think you could… maybe… stay with me tonight?" she asked quietly, looking truly vulnerable for the first time since Erik had met her. "I'd rather not be alone right now."

Erik felt his heart give another clench and mutely nodded, crossing to sink onto the edge of her bed as she settled back beneath the covers. Silence fell over the room as Christine closed her eyes and tried to drift back to sleep, but every few minutes she would shift restlessly, and after a while she simply gave up and turned over to face Erik.

"Sing me to sleep?" she asked hopefully.

"Of course," Erik answered instantly, sure that he would never be able to deny her anything while she was looking at him like that.

He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, trying to come up with an appropriate song, before a mischievous glint suddenly flashed in his eyes. "_Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around,_" he sang, trying very hard to keep a straight face. "_Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around…_"

Christine raised an eyebrow, holding her hand up immediately to stop his song. "Um, you do know that right after the person had that sung to her she was burned alive, don't you?"

"Hm. So she was…" he agreed, his eyes widening in theatrical surprise. "So maybe it wasn't the best choice of song to comfort you," he acceded reluctantly, looking down at her. His eyes softened as she burst into giggles, and he reached a hand out to brush a lock of hair out of her eyes. "But it did make you smile."

Christine glanced down and bit her lip, a blush spreading across her face. She caught Erik's hand in her own and pressed it against her face, her mouth spreading into a soft smile.

His heart gave another one of those squeezes he was starting to become accustomed to, and this time he could swear it even skipped a beat or two.

"Try again?" Christine asked, innocently unaware of how she was affecting him.

Erik simply nodded, another song springing to his mind almost instantly.

"_It's such a clever innocence with which you do your sorcery, as if somehow the years just bow and let that young girl go free,_" Erik sang softly.

Christine let her eyes slip closed contentedly, settling back to listen to Erik's achingly beautiful voice.

"_I thought that I was wild, until you turned and smiled; I thought I knew where I was going, until I heard your laughter flowing, and came upon the wisdom in your eyes._"

He watched as the tension slowly leaked out of her body and her breathing deepened, his hypnotic voice quickly taking effect on her.

"_I've spent my whole life running 'round, chasing songs from town to town, thinking I'd be free so long as I never let love slow me down. So lonely and so wild, until you turned and smiled. By now I should have long been gone, but here I am still looking on, as if I didn't know which way to run_." He carefully slipped his hand out from where Christine still had it cradled against her face, tracing her cheek with his fingertips for a moment before he realized what he was doing and jerked his hand away.

As he watched Christine sleeping peacefully beside him and felt his heart make another painful flip, he finally had to admit to himself what he had been fighting for a while now.

He was in love with Christine.

Deeply, utterly, passionately in love with her.

He was not having difficulty with his hormones simply because of his constant proximity to her, nor was he having misplaced emotions due to her kind treatment of him. What he was feeling was just because of Christine herself.

Christine, with her brilliant smile and her movie addiction, her scattered mind, incompetence with cooking and her tendency to randomly break into a song at all hours of the day. It made sense, really, that someone who had been compared to a corpse all his life would fall for someone who was so vibrantly _alive_. She had captured his heart with her quirky attitude and her effortless charm, and Erik knew he had no chance of getting it back.

As soon as he finally thought that, Erik knew he was in for a world of grief and frustration, being forced to live with a woman he loved and who would never love him back.

He briefly considered just walking out right then and there and letting someone else take over his job. Maybe some time away would be enough to get over her, but a single smile in her sleep was enough to stomp that trail of thought right out.

_Until you turned and smiled_…

No. Like it or not, Erik was tied to Christine until she forced him away.

"_Merde_…"


	14. Chapter 14

**Guarded Hearts**

Alright, my apologies again for the delay in the update. I'm a terrible person, but I do have the next chapter pretty much completed, so hopefully the next one will be a bit more punctual. Thanks to all of my amazing reviewers for the great feedback you've given me. You're all wonderful. And, as always, a huge thanks to my lovely beta, Goth Angel UK, for whipping my story into shape. Right. On with the show.

"_Really_, V?"

Erik glanced up from the set of blue-prints he had been working on as Christine rounded the corner into the kitchen, stopping in the door-frame and gesturing towards her face incredulously.

He set his pencil down and met her gaze calmly, the very picture of innocence. "Yes? Did you need something?"

He watched the muscle in her jaw start to twitch, unsure whether she was fighting back laughter or grinding her teeth in annoyance.

"Did I need something? Ahem, let's see," she began, reaching up and pulling a lime-green post-it from her forehead. "9:23 a.m.," she read officiously, "Meg called. Said something about family and Ireland and forest-green or ivory blouse. Too frantic to catch more than that."

She crumpled the sticky note and tossed it at Erik, who caught it absent-mindedly. She then reached up and pulled another post-it, this one bright blue, from the side of her nose.

"10:57 a.m. Your father called. Wants you to call him back and stop sleeping in so late on weekends. You're wasting half the day away, apparently."

Erik reached up and caught the second post-it as it was flung at him, finding it harder and harder to keep a straight face.

"11:05 a.m. Telemarketer called. Asked if you were interested in owning a state-of-the-art vegetable dicer. Told him I valued my life far too much to let you within twenty feet of a kitchen appliance ever again. Nice of you, by the way," Christine added, pausing in her recitation to shoot him a glare.

Erik finally gave up on trying not to laugh, adding the violet paper ball onto the slowly growing stack of crumpled post-its and watching as Christine ripped a hot-pink one from her chin.

"11:42 a.m. Meg called again. Said she decided on green blouse but can't find silver strappy sandals. Accused you of sandal-thievery and has sentenced you to execution, should these accusations be proven true."

"11:46. Meg again. Found sandals and apologizes for threatening to have you drawn and quartered. Is also apparently upset with you for not telling her how 'sexy' your bodyguard's voice is. Will discuss that subject with you later."

Erik was laughing too hard to catch the last sticky note, barely seeming to notice as it bounced off his mask.

"Is there any particular reason why you couldn't have left these messages on… say, my night-stand or something, instead of plastering them to my _face_?" Christine asked, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her eyebrows at Erik.

"Because you never notice your messages when I leave them at other places, so I thought I would try something new today, which, apparently, was highly successful."

Christine let out a snort of laughter, reaching up to rub off the remnants of adhesive from her face. "How in the hell did you get a hold of my rainbow post-its, anyway? I thought I'd lost those!"

Erik nodded his head towards the stack of post-its on the counter and returned his attention back to his blue-prints.

Christine grabbed the stack possessively and stepped over to the kitchen table, flipping a chair around and sitting so that her chin rested on its back.

"What are you working on?" she asked, peering at his plans curiously.

"Just a house I've been designing for a while."

"Oh, that's right! You used to be an architect."

Erik gave her a small grin, surprised that she had even remembered that.

"So, what's that for? You've decided to leave the security business and take up architecture again?"

"Not exactly," Erik answered. "This is more of an idle hobby than anything else."

Christine's eyes widened as she leaned over to better inspect the complex, meticulously drawn prints and the slew of instructions and mathematical equations written down their margins. _This _was an idle hobby?

"If I'm very happy with the designs, I might try to sell them to someone. Otherwise, I just keep them for future reference and ideas."

Christine shook her head, staring at Erik in amazement. "I swear, Erik… You seem to be a great architect, your ventriloquism is freakishly good, you're ridiculously smart, you're the most amazing musician I've ever heard… How did just one person end up with so much talent in all those different areas?"

"Fate's way of compensating, I suppose," he responded with a bitter smile, gesturing towards his mask.

"Fate's way of _over_compensating, if you ask me…" Christine muttered to herself, wincing at the murderous look Erik shot her. She decided a quick change of subject was in order.

"Hey, I wanted to say thank you again for saving me last night," she said softly, reaching out and taking his hand.

"No need to thank me," Erik replied stiffly. "I was just doing what I've been paid to do, after all."

Christine rolled her eyes and dropped his hand. "Well you did a very good job of it, either way. Maybe you should up your rate."

Erik didn't respond, but seemed to soften up slightly at her teasing.

"Though I have to say, you were _really _scary last night, V! I've never seen you like that before. What happened?"

Erik stiffened and looked away, clenching his fists tightly and causing Christine to immediately regret having brought the subject up.

"I have never been properly diagnosed, but Nadir suspects I might have some form of schizophrenia," Erik stated quietly after a tense pause. "It usually only shows up whenever something severely upsets me, and I hadn't had an episode like that in years, before last night. Nadir was none too happy to see me having a relapse."

"Who's Nadir?" Christine asked timidly. She was trying to tread carefully in her response, knowing how sensitive Erik could be about certain things, and decided not to comment on his potential schizophrenia.

"My partner at the agency."

"Oh! That's right. I've talked with him before. He gave me advice when I was redecorating your room for you!" she said excitedly. "So, your partner? Does that mean you two usually guard clients together?"

"No, that means we own the business together, actually," Erik responded amusedly.

Christine blinked. "You _own_ the agency?"

"Only half of it," he corrected with a smirk.

Christine shook her head incredulously. "So, if you own the company... or half of it, anyway," she amended as Erik raised his eyebrow at her, "what are you doing here?"

Erik cocked his head to the side in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well, why aren't you back at the office, running things and bossing your workers around, rather than out here doing all the manual labor?"

"Because my sanity is questionable enough without me being locked in an office all day."

"Right. Not one for office jobs, then?"

Erik shook his head. "Nadir handles all of that. I'm only listed as an owner because I provided most of the start-up financing."

"So how do you know Nadir, anyway?" Christine asked curiously. "I've never heard you mention him before, but he seemed to know you pretty well when I talked to him that day."

"Nadir is… a friend, I suppose you could say," Erik remarked, a pensive look crossing his face. "He saved my life quite a few years ago, which in his mind apparently means that he is now fully entitled to take an active part in it. He followed me when I moved to the U.S., and has since become my room-mate, therapist, co-worker, and set of morals, all wrapped up in one incredibly irritating package."

Christine laughed, noticing the traces of brotherly affection in his voice even though he tried to hide them. "Well I, for one, would very much like to meet this versatile man."

"He said the same thing about you last night," Erik responded guardedly, feeling a sudden rush of jealousy at Christine and Nadir's apparent interest in each other.

"You know," Christine said, thoughtfully scrutinizing Erik. "I've just realized how little I know about you. I mean, you've been living with me for… what, two months, now? And I still have no idea what your life's been like! Why don't you ever talk about it?"

Erik mentally let out a stream of curses. Did they honestly have to have this conversation? He had absolutely no desire to scare off the woman he'd only realized he was in love with hours prior with details of his sordid past.

"What's there to say?" he asked, letting out another internal curse at how frigid his voice sounded. _Sure, win her over with your incessant mood-swings and tempers_, he thought angrily.

Christine, however, didn't seem to notice his sudden anger. "Well, how you came to speak six different languages, for one."

Erik gave a non-committal shrug. "When one lives in a foreign country, one is generally expected to learn the native language, no?"

"You've lived in all those places?" Christine gasped, wondering briefly if her bodyguard would ever fail to surprise her. "My, my… Erik Draven, you've been holding out on me!" she accused playfully.

The sudden ring of the telephone distracted Christine from the torrent of questioning she was about to release. She leaned her chair forward precariously and grabbed it.

"Hello?"

Erik released a sigh of relief at her temporary distraction and turned his attention back to his blue-prints, listening surreptitiously to Christine's conversation as he did.

"Ah, so she finally rises from the dead, I see. And before dark, too! We're making some progress," a gentle voice, strongly colored with a Swedish accent, remarked playfully to Christine.

She grinned. "Hey, Daddy, nice to hear from you, too!"

"I called earlier, though I don't know what I was thinking, trying to get in touch with you before noon, and I spoke to your bodyguard for a moment. Did he not give you my message?"

"Oh, yes, he gave it to me. Left it right under my nose, actually," she replied, shooting a glare at said smirking bodyguard.

"Well, good for him. So I suppose you just didn't feel like calling me back?" he questioned, injecting as much hurt into his voice as he could.

Christine rolled her eyes at her father's theatrics. "No, Daddy, I had every intention of calling you back, as you well know, but Erik and I started talking and I got distracted."

Erik fought down a smile, strangely pleased to hear that he held the power to distract her so easily.

"So, what did you call about?"

"Well, as I've already made known to you, I am currently in the midst of the long and complex process of getting myself elevated from District Attorney of our city to Attorney-General for the state," Gustave began, "and tonight I am hosting a dinner party in a shameless attempt to suck-up to some rather important people in the hopes of furthering my goal."

"And you are telling me this because…?" Christine asked teasingly, a knowing smirk blossoming on her face.

"Well, as _you_ well know, I generally find stuffy dinners with all these lawyers and politicians to be a bit, well, insufferable, and I have discovered that having my lively, beautiful daughter around tends to make them a bit easier to sit through. Also, you can be so very charming when you want to, and I'm sure you would be quite an asset to winning these people over-"

"What time should we be there?" Christine interrupted, giggling at her father's entirely unnecessary sales-pitch.

"Six, at the latest. Make sure you both dress nicely, and bless you for giving up your Saturday to save your old man!"

"Of course, Father. Anything for you."

"Glad to hear it. I'll hold you to that one day."

Christine laughed. "Bye, Daddy. I'll see you at six."

"Goodbye, Princess."

Erik glanced up at Christine. "Where are you going to be at six?"

"_We _are going to be at my father's house for a dinner party," Christine responded, pushing her chair back from the table. "Now come on and get ready. He said to look nice."

"Are you saying I don't look nice?" Erik asked, affecting a sulky expression and gesturing towards his long-sleeved shirt and leather pants - all black, of course.

Christine let her eyes roam over his seated form, lingering over his chest and abdomen where the thin material of his shirt clung flatteringly.

Erik felt his breath hitch slightly as she studied him, shocked at the heat that entered her gaze as she did. Was that just extremely good acting skills and Christine's naturally flirtatious personality, or did he honestly affect her that way?

"Absolutely not!" Christine responded, with more emphasis than she'd originally intended. _He should wear tight shirts more often_, she decided, leisurely bringing her gaze back to Erik's face. He swallowed nervously and glanced away. "But I don't think that leather pants are entirely appropriate attire for attending a formal dinner party."

Erik, quickly classifying that brief interaction as wishful thinking on his part and pushing it to the back of his mind, just shrugged. "Perhaps not, but they're perfectly appropriate for skulking around in the corner at a formal dinner party."

"Uh uh. No way, Mister. Not this time," Christine declared imperiously, pointing a finger in his face.

Erik sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and lifting an eyebrow in wry amusement. "I beg your pardon?"

"You are going to sit at the table in full view of everybody and speak and eat and socialize, and in general be a pleasant dinner companion, just like the rest of us. You are _not _going to hide in the shadows and avoid everyone and let your only communication of the night be those ventriloquism tricks you use to screw with my head!"

Erik narrowed his eyes dangerously, his prideful nature causing his hackles to rise instinctively at being so flippantly ordered about, particularly when the orders would result in him sitting on display for a group of strangers to stare at and whisper about for the entire night.

"_You_ may eat and socialize all you like, Mademoiselle," he responded, his voice clipped and icy. "_I_ will stand patiently in the back of the room, as previously stated, and keep you safe throughout dinner, which, may I remind you, is the only thing required of me, despite how many orders you dictate."

"I'm not so much dictating orders as trying to help you out here. After all, going two whole months with me as your only source of human contact can't be healthy," Christine joked, brushing off his rising anger as only she could.

Erik blinked, feeling some of his irritation fade because he was so taken aback by her dismissive response.

"Listen, V, I know you hate people and you generally only tolerate my presence in your life because of the exorbitant amount of money my father pays you, but could you _please _just for one night ignore that fact and try to have fun?" she pleaded, clasping her hands in front of her face.

"Fun?" Erik repeated, unconvinced. "At a dinner with lawyers and politicians?"

"Please, Erik? _Please_?" Seeing that he was still unmoved, she quickly brought out her patented begging face, tilting her face downwards to frame her wide, blue eyes through her long lashes. She curled her lips down just slightly for good measure and watched in silent triumph as the steely resolve slowly began to seep out of Erik's gaze.

"Eek! Thank you!" she called happily, jumping up and hugging his neck before he had even had a chance to respond verbally. Erik reflexively pulled his arms up in defense, shoving Christine rather violently away from him in the process, much to his mortification. He clenched his fists and bit back a curse, damning (not for the first time) his mother and various others throughout his life for making his subconscious automatically associate any contact with violence.

Christine, who seemed to have been blessed with a sensitivity and patience for handling people that she did not possess in any other aspect of her life, tactfully continued on with her celebratory gloating as if nothing were amiss.

"Really, Erik, if my father and I have to sit through a night of mind-numbingly boring discussions while looking attentive and attempting to make these people like us, it's only fair for you to have to take part, too. Besides, I don't think I could last through the night without you beside me to help me mock everyone. You're wonderfully cynical. I bet you'll be great at it."

Erik, silently marveling at how easily Christine seemed to draw him out of his moods, gave her a cruel smirk. "Oh, yes. Mercilessly mocking people is a specialty of mine, I assure you."

"Well, then, I am eagerly looking forward to it," Christine answered, matching his expression with an equally wicked smirk that looked slightly out of place on her beatific features. "Now go on and start getting ready. Daddy will never forgive me if we're late!"

Erik, growling quietly to himself about devious, manipulative vixens and the cruelties they subjected men to, reluctantly stood from the kitchen table, stretching his stiff muscles in a cat-like fashion and carefully rolling his blue-prints up into a neat scroll.

Christine tried to hide how that unconsciously sexy gesture affected her, and responded with a mumbled comment about weak-minded pushovers and the lengths to which a singularly well-executed puppy-dog face could push them, before shooting Erik a playful wink and skipping into her bedroom to get ready.

"And this is the girl you managed to fall in love with?" he asked himself despairingly.


	15. Chapter 15

**Guarded Hearts**

_All recognizable characters are property of Gaston Leroux or Susan Kay_

Right, kiddies. Next installment, and in an incredibly timely fashion, if I do say so myself.

Quick shout out to my ridiculously talented, completely wonderful beta, Goth Angel UK. If you guys haven't checked any of her stories out, you really ought to. They're great. Right, with that being said, let's get this party started!

*Also, for those of you who have been following this story for a while and assumed that it alerted you because I had posted a chapter sixteen FINALLY, I assure you that the elusive chapter you have waited over a year for has already been written and is simply in the process of being edited by someone far more talented than myself, provided she forgives me for my unexcused abscence... Your patience shall be rewarded very soon...

"Hey, Speedy Gonzalez, could you _possibly _walk any slower?" Christine snapped, climbing the steps to her father's front porch and turning around to glare at Erik.

"Quite easily, actually," Erik replied nonchalantly as he continued his painfully slow march up the driveway.

Christine planted her hands on her hips and tapped a foot impatiently, the steady _click-click-click _of her stiletto against the pavement expressing her agitation more than any words could have.

Erik simply gave her a humorless smile, making no attempt to increase his pace.

"Oh, for the love of — Erik, that _snail _just passed you!" Christine shouted, apparently having given up on the silent intimidation method. "Look, I know that I kind of twisted your arm to get you to come…"

Erik scoffed and shot her a look.

"Okay, fine, I know that I kind of ripped your arm off and bludgeoned you with it to get you to come," she rephrased reluctantly, causing Erik to chuckle at the imagery her description evoked. "But you _did _agree to come, and it's a bit late to back out now, so could you _please _stop acting like you're marching to the gallows instead of a party and get your ass inside, before mine freezes off out here?"

Erik, deciding he had punished Christine enough, suddenly strode forward, covering the distance between them in little more than a second.

"_Thank _you," Christine said, shooting him one last scowl before opening the front door and stepping inside without bothering to knock.

They were greeted with an excited bark as a large gray dog suddenly came barreling towards them.

"Sarge!" Christine called elatedly, falling to her knees and embracing the shaggy creature. It wriggled its tail and set about licking her face enthusiastically. "Eugh! That's enough, boy. You'll lick all my make-up off! It takes a lot of work to look this good!" she joked, pushing his snout away and rising. The dog gave her hand one last happy lick before turning his attention to Erik.

"Hello there, Sarge," Erik greeted playfully, sinking into a crouch and scratching behind one of the dog's large, floppy ears. Sarge gave a delighted woof and rolled over on his back.

Christine watched the whole interaction with a warm smile on her face, noticing the way animals seemed to draw the humanity out of Erik.

"So, is your father a military man, Christine?" Erik asked, glancing up from where he was currently rubbing the dog's stomach.

"No, Sarge is short for Sergeant Pepper, actually," she replied. "Daddy's a huge Beatles fan."

"Saw them in concert twice," a deep voice declared proudly from behind them.

Erik and Christine turned to see a tall man with graying blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a benevolent face covered by a thick, dark-blond beard standing in the foyer behind them.

"Hey, Daddy," Christine greeted happily, rushing forward and enveloping him in a big hug.

"_Hallå, min prinsessa_," Gustave returned lovingly, squeezing her shoulders and pulling back to smile at her. "I have an issue to discuss with you," he stated, his gentle smile suddenly morphing into an intimidating frown.

"And what would that be?" Christine asked, looking at him quizzically.

"Would you care to explain to me why I got a phone call about thirty minutes ago from that nice fellow Nadir who runs the D&K security agency, informing me that the men who tried to attack my daughter last night are now safely behind bars, and that their trial date is set for three months from now, should I care to represent you when you testify against them?"

Christine winced and swallowed nervously. "Um, well…"

"I, of course, told the man that he had to be mistaken, because _my _daughter would never have something like that happen to her and not call me, no matter what time of the day it was, to let me know about it. _My _daughter would _never _let an entire day pass, a day which had already included a rather pleasant conversation with me earlier in the morning, without informing me that two men had threatened her life and tried to kidnap her, _especially _when the entire reason behind their attempt was to get to me. _My _daughter would never be so thoughtless, would she?"

Erik watched in amusement as Christine shrank back guiltily, looking every bit the naughty child who'd just been caught by her parents and was about to be grounded, despite the fact that she was a legal adult and had been living on her own for the last four years.

"I'm so, _so_ sorry, Daddy, and I really wasn't hiding it from you on purpose! I just… I know how worried you can get about me, and I didn't want to freak you out, especially since I was fine and there really was no reason to worry you… and I thought that if you found out what had caused the attack you would feel guilty, so I-"

"Enough, Christine," Gustave interrupted, holding a hand up and eyeing his frantic daughter with amusement. "Just promise me that you are all right and that you will never withhold something like this from me again."

"I promise," Christine agreed solemnly. She could see the guilt and concern lurking in his eyes, despite the humor with which he tried to mask it. She and her father had similar methods of coping with distress. "I'm fine, Daddy," she added softly, squeezing his hand.

Gustave smiled sadly and ran his hand over her hair affectionately, before finally turning his attention to Erik, who had been silently enjoying their interaction whilst absent-mindedly petting Sarge. "And this must be the legendary Phantom," he declared, his kind blue eyes crinkling with his smile.

Erik internally rolled his eyes. Evidently Nadir had been telling stories about him, _again_.

"Erik Draven," he offered formally, stepping forward and reluctantly holding his hand out. Erik was normally not one for proper etiquette and courtesies, and he had never before offered his hand out for a shake, having had too many instances in his life of any type of contact being brutally rejected. However, for some reason - which he refused to admit to himself had anything to do with his newly-realized infatuation with Christine - he desperately wanted to make a good impression on this man. If that meant setting himself up for yet another humiliating rejection, then so be it.

To his shock, though, Gustave reached out without the slightest hesitation and returned his handshake heartily.

"Gustave Daaé," he said kindly. "It is an honor to meet the man who saved my daughter," he added sincerely, meeting Erik's gaze and giving him a grateful smile.

Erik only gave him a somewhat startled nod, too surprised to think of an appropriate response. Luckily, a sudden, melodic chime echoed through the foyer and saved him from having to say anything.

Gustave flinched back as if he were in physical pain, eyeing the front door dubiously.

An elderly woman dressed in a conservative maid's outfit strode past them, heading to answer the door, but Gustave reached a hand out to halt her.

"Lucy, could you go and check on dinner for me? I'll get the door."

Lucy nodded, giving Christine and her father a quick smile and turning to enter the kitchen.

"Remind me why I'm doing this, again?" Gustave murmured to his daughter as he turned his attention back to the front door.

"Because you are far too ambitious for your own good," she replied, patting him on the back comfortingly.

"Ah, that. Right, well, you two can head on to the living room for drinks. I'll be there in a moment."

They nodded and made their way down the hallway, pausing at the coat-rack to deposit their coats.

"Your father has a maid?" Erik asked as he parted with his duster very reluctantly, surreptitiously removing his noose from it and coiling it up into his back pocket. He placed his wallet in front of it, so that the thin catgut rope wasn't too obvious.

"Oh, Lucy? She's his housekeeper. She and her husband have been working here for years, now. The maid's outfit is just something she insists on wearing whenever Dad has guests. Claims it makes him seem more professional," Christine replied, removing her heavy woolen coat.

Erik quickly clamped his jaw shut to keep it from hanging slack.

Christine, clad in an icy-blue silk cocktail dress and with her hair piled elegantly atop her head, looked completely stunning. The dress ended a little bit above the knee, and the halter-top left her shoulders completely bare, the V-cut neckline delving down just low enough to make the dress sexy and yet modest enough to keep it classy. Erik wondered later, after he'd fully regained his normal thought functions, how much experience Christine had had dressing for that sort of gathering, considering the appropriateness of her current outfit.

"Um, Erik? You okay?" Christine asked worriedly, waving her hand in front of his face to get his attention.

"Err, what?" was Erik's very articulate response.

She gave him a concerned look. "You're staring at me like I've got nine heads or something."

"Oh. My apologies… I've just… I've never seen you dressed up before," he replied, for once thankful for the presence of his mask, since it successfully hid most of the embarrassed flush to his skin.

"I take it you like the dress, then?" Christine teased as she held her skirt out and gave a little twirl.

Erik tilted his head to the side to survey her and gave her a slight smile. "You look lovely."

Christine's teasing grin turned to one of true pleasure, and she ducked her head shyly as she patted her dress back into place. "Thanks, V…" Recovering somewhat from her surprise, she then looked up and shot him a cheeky grin. "Someone is being very flattering today… We're still not leaving the party early, though. No matter how much you suck up to me."

The sound of footsteps echoing down the hall prevented Erik from responding, and he and Christine both turned to see her father and a nice-looking man in his late thirties approaching them.

"Ah, Stephen, I'd like you to meet my daughter," Gustave began, pausing in the hall beside them. "This is Stephen Craft, our newest state senator. Stephen, this is my beautiful daughter, Christine, and her bodyguard, Erik Draven."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Stephen greeted politely, though after giving Erik's mask a surprised once-over he quickly averted his eyes and kept them glued on Christine. Since Erik's eyes were still focused there, as well, he luckily didn't seem to notice.

Gustave gave everyone an apologetic smile as the doorbell chimed again. "Ah, a host's job is never done with, it seems. If you'll excuse me, please."

"Can I fix you a drink, Mr. Craft?" Christine asked politely, stepping past Erik and into the elegantly decorated living room as her father hurried to answer the door.

"A scotch on the rocks, please?" he replied graciously as he and Erik followed her in and sat down.

"Of course. Would you like anything, Erik?"

Erik blinked in surprise, still a bit dazed by her appearance and not used to being offered anything so politely. "Oh. Yes. Sure. Vodka?"

"Martini?" Christine questioned, chuckling at his dazed reaction.

"No, no. Just the Vodka will be fine," he replied crisply, apparently not taking kindly to being laughed at.

"All right, Vodka it is."

She handed both men their drinks and sat down beside Erik on the couch, having filled a martini glass with cherries for herself.

Erik shot her a bemused look as he noticed this.

"What?" Christine asked defensively, plopping one of the cherries into her mouth and flicking the stem at Erik. "I'm not much of a drinker."

"So, instead of having a glass of water, you decide to gorge yourself on cherries?"

Christine narrowed her eyes at him and popped another cherry into her mouth.

"You're going to spoil your dinner, you know," Erik teasingly warned.

"It's just a couple of cherries, _Mom_," she shot back.

Her father chose that moment to enter the room, keeping Erik from making a response.

They went through several more rounds of introductions (though Christine couldn't for the life of her remember any of the names she had just been told) as all of the guests slowly trickled in, before finally heading into the dining room to commence dinner.

Christine shot Erik a worried look as they sat down at the table. All of the suspicious glances his mask had been attracting since the guests arrived had him wound rather tight, and Christine felt herself starting to regret forcing him to sit at the table with her. She had thought she was doing him a favor, but if he was going to stay like this the entire night, then she wasn't so sure.

She kept a wary eye on him throughout dinner, even as she laughed and conversed with her father and his guests. As Gustave had said, she could be very charming when she wanted to, and her light-hearted banter helped to diffuse several situations where the discussions were starting to get too heated. The main topic of discussion was politics, after all.

Christine was relieved to see Erik relaxing a little as everyone became wrapped up in conversation, their attention diverted from him completely. He hadn't spoken a word to anyone since the start of dinner, and though Christine tried to remain an active part of the dialogue, when the discussion turned to some of the more technical aspects of criminal law, she felt her attention drifting. She and Erik both became immersed in their thoughts as the night dragged on.

Fighting back a very persistent yawn that had been trying to escape for the past ten minutes, Erik glanced beside him at Christine, raising an eyebrow as he saw her idly place one of her discarded cherry stems into her mouth and begin to manipulate it with her tongue.

"What on Earth are you doing?" he whispered, leaning down to her ear surreptitiously.

"Ahm tyin a thery them intho a gnoh wiff mah tahngue," she replied, as if it were obvious, narrowing her eyes in concentration.

"And why, exactly, are you tying a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue?" Erik asked dubiously.

Christine held up a finger, silently instructing him to wait, then she spit a knotted stem into her palm and turned to face him with a triumphant grin.

"Because I'm bored, and because, apparently, if you can do it, it means you're very skilled with your tongue," she replied, winking mischievously at him.

Erik tightened the grip on his fork, but gave no other indication as to how that statement had affected him.

"You do realize that you are at a formal dinner party, not in a high school cafeteria, don't you?"

Christine shrugged and nodded her head towards the other occupants of the table. "None of them are paying attention, anyway. What does it matter?"

Erik glanced around him at the guests currently in the midst of a rather spirited debate about the death penalty, and shrugged his shoulders in acquiescence. "I suppose it doesn't."

"I must say I'm a little insulted, though," Christine muttered, her gaze following Erik's. "I'm not usually so easily ignored."

"You're not usually so quiet," Erik shot back, a wolfish twist to his lips. "It's a bit easier to ignore someone when they're not babbling on about anything and everything."

Christine shot him a mock glare, leaning sulkily back in her chair and picking at her plate of pasta.

"You've barely touched your food," Erik pointed out, nodding towards her full plate.

"I'm touching it right now," Christine replied, continuing to push the pasta around with her fork.

Erik rolled his eyes. "You've barely eaten your food," he corrected.

"Not a huge pasta fan," she said with a shrug.

"You love pasta," Erik countered suspiciously. "Italian food ranks only below Chinese food for you."

"Well, Brian's pasta isn't the greatest."

"Brian?"

"Lucy's husband. Dad's cook."

"Ah. I happen to think his pasta is quite delicious, actually, and so does everyone else at this table, it would seem," Erik said.

Christine only shrugged, her eyes glued to her plate as she determinedly refused to meet Erik's gaze.

"How many glasses of cherries did you eat?" he asked knowingly.

"Two."

Erik shot her a look.

"Or four."

"That's a lot of cherries. They didn't spoil your dinner, did they?" he asked with false concern.

Christine narrowed her eyes and stabbed at her pasta with extra vehemence. "You don't have to look so smug, you know."

"You're not even looking at me," Erik replied, his voice laced with amusement.

"No, but I can feel your smugness. It's practically radiating off you," she muttered. If looks could kill, her pasta would have died a hundred times over. "Why do you care, anyway?"

"I don't, particularly," Erik breezed. "It's just nice to be proven right, once in a while."

Christine kicked him playfully under the table, fighting back a grin.

Her attention was drawn back to the dinner guests as she heard her name suddenly mentioned.

"…But don't you worry about the effects all of this will have on you and Christine?" one of the men was asking her father. "After all, it's some of the most powerful criminals in the country you are pursuing. Aren't you worried that your actions, however noble they may be, are putting you and your family in danger?"

"Of course I worry. I'm a father; it's my job to worry. But these people have had free reign over our state for too long, and it's high-time someone did something about it," Gustave replied grimly. "I feel terrible about the threat I am putting my daughter in, but I would feel worse if I did nothing."

Several people gave approving nods at this.

"And I have taken as many safety precautions as possible. Both of our houses are equipped with state-of-the-art security systems, and Mr. Draven, here, has been hired on as Christine's full-time bodyguard."

Erik shifted uncomfortably as several pairs of eyes turned to study him with undisguised curiosity.

"What about your bodyguard, Gustave?" the senator from earlier, Stephen, asked, sensing Erik's discomfort and trying to turn the attention away from him. "Surely you need protection as well?"

"Oh, don't worry about me. I've hired a guard, too, but as soon as he found out Mr. Draven would be here, Frank asked if he could have the evening off. He claimed that there was nothing he could do to protect me that Mr. Draven couldn't handle on his own. It would seem that I hired the best in the business for my daughter," he said, smiling at Erik and Christine.

"So, is that what the mask is all about, then?" a middle-aged man wearing a red bowtie asked curiously, scrutinizing Erik. "It's a bit much, don't you think?"

Erik's eyes flashed angrily, and he felt a low snarl building up in the back of his throat. The man shrank away in his seat, his eyes widening in fear, and Erik had to clench his fists tight to stop them from inching back towards the pocket that housed his Punjab lasso.

Christine reached out under the table and took his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze and causing Erik to loosen his fist in surprise. As he did so, Christine laced her fingers through his and gave him a smile that was reassurance and warning wrapped all in one.

One of the other guests, who had apparently not picked up on Erik's irate reaction to that line of questioning, asked, "What's it for, exactly? Is it to protect your identity, or something?"

Erik felt a fresh bout of anger wash over him, but Christine's hand tightened around his, and it disappeared just as quickly. Something about having a person beside him who understood (at least to an extent) and wasn't bothered by the mask, and who seemed to genuinely care about him, managed to calm him down, and he heard himself replying in a deceptively calm voice, "Oh no, it's just that they're terribly comfortable. I believe everyone will be wearing them in the future."

Most people at the table gave each other confused, uncomfortable looks, except for Christine's father, who looked like he was trying very hard not to burst into laughter, and Christine herself, who quickly turned her giggles into a coughing fit.

Erik, pleased with himself for managing to keep his temper in check, gave everyone a razor-edged smile and calmly returned to his food.

"You've been watching movies without me," Christine whispered accusingly, as the conversation awkwardly picked up where it had left off.

"Well, I've got so much catching up to do. I figured a little homework was in order."

"I can't believe you just quoted The Princess Bride to my father's dinner guests…"

Erik gave a slight shrug. "It seemed appropriate."

Christine stifled another giggle and took a sip of her drink. "I was afraid you were going to lunge over the table and attack Mr. Bowtie, for a minute there. I think he was, too. The poor guy looks terrified, and he hasn't touched his food since."

"Hm. Maybe he never will again, if we're lucky."

Christine raised her eyebrows. "That's a bit vicious, V. Do you plot my death every time _I_ piss you off?"

"I'll let you know whenever you do."

"Ah, c'mon. You're seriously telling me I've never made you mad yet?"

Erik cocked his head to the side, considering. "Let's see… You've irritated me severely, you frustrate me to no end on every possible occasion…. I think you revel in it, really. But you make it rather difficult to stay mad at you for long… So no, I don't suppose you have. Not very mad, at least."

"Well, now I have something to work on, I guess," Christine said, giving him an impish grin.

Erik shook his head and sighed, his eyes lighting up in amusement.

He and Christine spent the rest of the dinner whispering to each other, covertly mocking all of the room's occupants or sharing secret looks when they couldn't get away with talking.

It wasn't until dinner was over and everyone was returning to the living room to mingle for a while that they noticed their hands were still entwined.

Erik felt practically giddy, quickly deciding that maybe this outing hadn't been quite so miserable, after all. Either way, though, he was relieved when the last of the guests had excused themselves after what felt like at least several hours, and only he and Christine remained seated in the living room.

"I would like to apologize for my colleagues' earlier rudeness," Gustave said, settling into a leather armchair after seeing the last of his guests to the door. "For a group of politicians, you would think they would be more diplomatic than that."

Erik was once again surprised by the good-natured civility with which Gustave was treating him. Then again, this was the man who had raised Christine, and she didn't seem to have a mean bone in her body, so perhaps it made sense. "Think nothing of it. I have become quite accustomed to questions like that, throughout my life."

"Yes, I suppose you would have," Gustave muttered. "Ah, well, no matter. They've gone now, thank the Lord, and hopefully this night's drudgery will pay off somehow."

"I'm betting it will," Christine remarked, smiling encouragingly at her father.

He returned her smile gratefully. "Then again, the dinner didn't seem quite so tedious to the two of you. What were you kids discussing over there? It looked much more interesting than the conversation the rest of us were having."

Christine felt her face flush slightly, embarrassed to have been caught goofing around with Erik. "Sorry about that, Daddy. We didn't think anyone was paying attention to us."

"I always pay attention to my daughter," he chided her lovingly. "But no one else was, I promise. They all seemed too terrified to even look Mr. Draven's way after that little incident. You certainly do have the intimidation factor down to an art," he stated jokingly to Erik.

"It comes in handy sometimes," Erik replied with a shrug.

"Does it work on Christine?"

Erik gave the girl a sidelong, humorous glance. "Not usually, no."

"I've yet to find something that does," Gustave said, chuckling. "She was hell to discipline, as a child. All she'd have to do was flutter her eyelashes and look at you with those big blue eyes, and you'd think 'surely this little angel couldn't be the one who smashed the beautiful, expensive stained-glass window you'd just had installed a few weeks ago, broke it up into bits, gathered all the pieces into a chest, and buried it out in your garden, demolishing your rose bed in the process.'"

Erik turned and raised his eyebrow at the furiously blushing girl.

"What?" she asked defensively. "We were playing Pirates and needed something to use for the buried treasure… I was six! How was I supposed to know the thing cost like four hundred bucks?"

"The bad thing was, she didn't even get into trouble for it. It's so hard to stay mad at a six-year-old with an eye-patch and a stuffed chicken duct-taped to their shoulder."

"It was a parrot, thank you very much," Christine replied, sticking her tongue out at her father.

Gustave laughed and shook his head good-naturedly. "Well, it's getting rather late, so I suppose I should let you two head home. Thank you again for coming to this thing. You saved me from having a completely horrible evening."

"It was actually kind of fun, surprisingly," Christine said, waving away his thanks.

"I'm glad you thought so. So, should I call you two a cab?"

"There's no need. I can drive us home," Erik answered politely, rising from the couch and heading to the foyer.

"Yeah, Erik apparently has a car that he's kept in my building's car park for the past few months without bothering to tell me about it," Christine added in as she and Gustave followed him. "I don't know much about cars, but the thing is absolutely gorgeous and its stereo system is to die for," she gushed, then turned her attention towards Erik. "And you had Vodka before dinner, so you don't get to drive. Hand over the keys, V."

Erik raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you even know how to drive a stick-shift?"

"Nope, not a clue. Guess I'll wing it," she replied casually, holding her hand out expectantly.

Erik made no move to give her the keys.

"I'm only kidding! 'Course I can drive a stick. My first car was a manual."

Erik, who felt he was in complete control of his motor skills and rather resented being treated as a safety hazard, met Christine's gaze challengingly, but noticing the familiar stubborn glint to her eyes he knew it was no use.

With a sigh, he wordlessly dropped the keys to his Audi Coupe into her waiting hand. "Something tells me this is all just a ploy to get me to let you drive the car."

"No, no. Safety is my first concern, I promise. Getting to drive your beautiful car is just a fringe benefit."

Erik gave her a doubtful look.

"Well, now that it's all sorted out," Gustave chuckled, stepping over to pull Christine into a tight hug. "Love you, Princess."

"Love you too, Daddy."

He pulled away from his daughter and reached out to shake Erik's hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Draven, and I thank you again for saving Christine's life."

Erik only nodded, then turned and stepped back out into the freezing night. Christine practically skipped over to the car, climbing into the driver's seat and petting the steering wheel reverently. Erik followed at a slower pace, shaking his head at her excitement.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Christine asked as Erik buckled himself in and she backed out of her father's driveway.

"I suppose not," he admitted reluctantly. "Your father was very nice, and the food was good. For those of us who ate it, anyway."

Christine rolled her eyes and shot him a playful glare. "Did I mention you look really nice tonight?" she asked, with a quick glance at his classic black-and-white tux. "Mind you, I'm rather partial to the leather pants, myself, but this look's not so bad, either." She loved his usual villain look, but this outfit made him look very chic and debonair, she decided. "It's very Bond."

Erik's eyes widened in surprise, and he looked down quickly before Christine could notice, a wide smile breaking across his face.

They made the rest of the drive back to the apartment in silence (well, not silence, exactly, as Christine had placed a Gogol Bordello CD into the stereo and spent the ride belting along with the Russian punk band, but no actual conversation took place). Erik watched her antics with an indulgent smile on his face, comparing his life now to what it had been like only months prior, before he had been hired by the Daaés. He wondered what he would be doing right now if he had declined the offer, as he had originally been tempted to do, and felt a sharp stab of pain rip through him at the mere thought.

After spending so many days basking in the sunlight of Christine's affection and infectious happiness, he knew that returning to his dark, morose life of solitude would just about kill him.

He remained lost in his thoughts as they walked up the stairs leading to Christine's apartment, for once not even trying to melt into the shadows as usual.

"Ergh, remind me again why I decided to wear the stilettos today?" Christine asked, swiftly removing her silver heels and flinging them across the room as soon as she entered the apartment. "I mean, yes, I look fabulous in them, but they're like some kind of really ingenious torture device, invented by a scorned lover who wanted to get revenge on the woman that broke his heart and all the other women in the world in the process!"

Erik laughed quietly as he crossed the room to gather the shoes she had so violently deposited, and placed them neatly on a shelf in the coat closet.

Christine flopped dramatically onto the couch, stretching her legs out and bringing an arm up to rest over her eyes. "I can't feel four out of ten of my toes… Are they still there?"

Erik made an affirmative noise, his eyes glued to Christine's long, sculpted legs, where her actions had caused the hem of her dress to ride up dangerously high.

"If you say so. I'll believe you when I get some feeling back in them," she responded without moving.

A frantic knocking on their door startled Erik from the decidedly inappropriate things he had been picturing, and he guiltily ripped his eyes away from Christine, his face burning in shame.

"Could you get that, V? I think my feet might just fall off if I put any pressure on them within the next twelve hours."

Erik wordlessly obeyed, viciously cursing himself for his lack of self-control and throwing the door open a little harder than necessary. He froze as he came face-to-face with a distraught Meg Giry, her eyes puffy and bloodshot from tears, mascara streaked down her face, and her mahogany hair in windswept disarray, as if she'd been running.

"C-can I come i-in?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Guarded Hearts**

_All characters are the property of Gaston Leroux or Susan Kay._

A/N: ...There are no words to express my deep guilt in having gone over seventeen months without updating this story... All I can really say is that I am a TERRIBLE author unworthy of all the encouraging reviews I have received... Please don't kill me? I finally included a shirtless Erik!

This chapter is being re-posted now that it has been edited by the fabulous Goth Angel UK. Luckily, she has decided to take me back after my extended abscence, and I am so grateful for it, because this chapter is so much better now that she's gotten a hold of it!

"C-can I come i-in?"

"Meg?" Christine exclaimed anxiously, jumping up and running to stand beside Erik, her earlier foot complaints forgotten.

Meg released a sudden sob and collapsed instantly into her arms.

"Oh, sweetheart…" Christine murmured, bringing her hand up to rub her back comfortingly. "What happened?"

Meg's only response was to release another sob, and Christine, realizing that her friend was not up for talking just yet, gently led her inside and sat beside her on the couch, letting the distraught girl cry herself out on her shoulder.

Sensing that Christine had everything under control and his presence would only make Meg uncomfortable at the moment, Erik surreptitiously slipped away into the kitchen, although he continued to listen in on the conversation.

When Meg's sobs had finally subsided, Christine pulled away slightly and peered into her blood-shot eyes in concern. "What happened, hun? Tell me what's wrong."

Meg sniffled and scrubbed at her face to clear the tear tracks from it. "Daniel's family flew in from Ireland today," she began in a shaky voice. "I don't know if Erik told you I called earlier, asking for advice on what to wear… I was so eager to make a good impression on them…" Meg's voice broke suddenly and she had to stop as tears began to well up in her eyes again, but she fiercely fought them down and continued, "We took them out to dinner at The Waysider… God, Daniel was _so _excited. He spent the whole walk there gushing about how wonderful his parents were and how much they were going to love me… And then we got there… And they were _awful_, Chris!"

Christine gave her a worried look as it seemed like she was about to burst into tears again, but she managed to hold them back, and Christine decided it was safe to continue her inquiries. "What do you mean?"

"They were vicious! They didn't even wait until we'd ordered drinks before they started attacking me!" Meg exclaimed bitterly.

Christine's eyes narrowed menacingly. "What did they say to you?"

"Not so much _to _me as _about _me… But they just went on and on about how I wasn't 'what they expected for him', because I was a dancer, which is apparently synonymous with 'slut' in their book, and didn't he know that career-ambitious women made terrible mothers, anyway? And whatever happened to that adorable Lily girl he had been so fond of in high school?"

Christine had been getting increasingly furious as Meg continued with her explanation, feeling surprisingly little guilt at the strong urge that enveloped her to beat the elderly couple to within an inch of their lives. "What did you do? Surely you didn't just sit there and let those assholes keep on like that?" she couldn't help but exclaim.

"Well, at first I was too stunned to do anything… I just sat there and stared, and tried to convince myself that this was really happening," Meg explained, anger overpowering her despair suddenly and lending an abrupt enthusiasm to her account. "But when my brain finally caught up with me, I quickly informed them that they knew next to nothing about me, and to form so many judgments without even bothering to _speak_ to me just showed that they were mean, ignorant people who weren't worth my time. I told them that I was raised by a single mother who was an incredibly talented, successful dancer, and who had no trouble bringing up a daughter on her own even while pursuing her career, and that she was the most virtuous person I knew, despite her profession. Then I told them that I genuinely cared for their son, but that I was also aware of my own self-worth and knew that he was damn lucky to have me, and if he didn't think I was worth defending from his parents, then he absolutely was not worth my time."

Christine nodded approvingly, her eyes shining with pride for her strong-willed best friend.

"Then I found the waiter, who had heard the whole episode, ordered the most expensive item on the menu, and told him to place it on their check. He told me he would be glad to, and suggested I get a bottle of wine to go with my meal, and then he gave me his number and said he would gladly defend me from anyone in his family who dared to insult 'such a spectacular woman'," Meg said, letting out a bitter laugh.

Christine grinned, immediately in love with this waiter, but her grin quickly faded as she processed Meg's story. "What did Danny do? He couldn't have just sat there and let you go! Not after his family attacked you like that!"

Unable to hold back her emotions any longer, Meg suddenly let out another sob. "But he did, Chris! He just… just sat there and stared like he had no idea what was going on! He didn't say a word to me as I left! Why didn't he defend me? Or stop me? Or follow me… or… or something!" The anger in Meg's face slowly transformed into abject misery as she finally gave in and let herself cry in earnest.

Christine opened her arms and pulled Meg's face onto her shoulder, offering her the only comfort that she could as her friend released all of the emotions brought on by her ordeal.

Erik picked this moment to slink silently out of the kitchen and deposit two steaming mugs of hot chocolate on the table in front of the two women. Christine gave him a grateful look and mouthed a silent 'thank you', surprised at his thoughtfulness. Erik waved her thanks away, casting Meg a concerned look. Christine smiled gently at her surprisingly considerate bodyguard, and mouthed the words 'she'll be fine'. Erik simply nodded in reply and quickly disappeared into the library, giving the two friends privacy.

Meg drew back from Christine when she had finally cried herself out, and Christine reached down to hand her a cup of hot chocolate. Her friend accepted gratefully and sipped, her eyes widening in surprise as she tasted the drink.

"Mm… This is amazing, Chris!" she declared, quickly taking a larger gulp of the chocolaty liquid. Christine, who had just finished taking a sip from her own cup, had to agree. _Erik Draven, you've been holding out on me…_

The girls drank their hot chocolate silently, each lost in their own thoughts, and Christine was rather relieved to see Meg gradually relaxing out of the tense, emotionally conflicted state she had arrived in, although her eyes remained grief-stricken.

"Do you want to pop a movie in?" Christine suggested mildly, attempting to divert Meg's attention away from her disastrous evening. "We haven't had a movie night in forever. How about some awful B horror movie, with zombies or aliens and gratuitous violence?"

Meg smiled half-heartedly at her friend's attempt to cheer her up, but shook her head. "To be honest, I just want to go to sleep. I feel exhausted…"

"Sure thing, hun. All of my pajamas will fit you, as you already know, and I've just put those fabulous Egyptian cotton sheets your mother bought me for Christmas on my bed."

"Oh, Chris, no! I want to sleep on the couch."

"Absolutely not! I will not allow it!" Christine declared imperiously, giving her a stern look. "If you insist on sleeping on the couch, I shall simply have to sleep in the bath tub."

Meg opened her mouth to protest again, but one look from Christine was enough to stop her, and she finally nodded in acquiescence. She slowly stood up and began shuffling off to Christine's room, then stopped suddenly and turned back to face her, a bemused look on her face.

"You know, I never actually even asked if I could stay here…"

Christine rolled her eyes and grinned. "Why bother asking? You know that goes without saying."

Meg smiled and shot her a grateful look. "Good night, Christine."

"Sweet dreams, Megan," Christine returned, waiting until her friend had disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door before she allowed the anger and concern to show on her face.

How could Daniel have just sat there and let his parents treat Meg so horribly? Christine had always been very fond of the sweet, playful redhead that had captured Meg's affections, and she knew how much Daniel adored Meg… His actions tonight seemed completely out of character, and Christine fervently hoped that there was a logical explanation behind it, though she wondered if anything would ever make her fully forgive him for hurting Meg the way he did, even if it had been inadvertently…

With a sigh, Christine quickly banished the worries out of her head, deciding that she would figure it all out eventually, and set about converting her rather lumpy couch into a temporary sleeping area.

"That is really quite considerate, but if it's all the same to you, I believe I would prefer to sleep in the library tonight," a melodic voice declared from the hallway.

Christine stilled, grinning slightly to herself, but didn't turn around to look at her bodyguard. "Your attempts at chivalry are greatly appreciated, but completely unnecessary, I assure you," she retorted calmly as she resumed her efforts at setting up the couch. "This couch is just as comfortable as any bed."

"It was not a request, mademoiselle," Erik stated, not moving from his perch leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and a slight smirk playing around his lips. "And that is the biggest lie I have ever heard. This lumpy monstrosity you call a couch is long past its prime, and I do believe a pile of cinder blocks would prove more comfortable to sleep on. At least then you wouldn't have springs poking rather viciously into your spinal cord."

Christine gasped in false outrage. "How dare you insult Couchy that way! He's been with me since I first moved into this apartment!"

Erik raised an eyebrow in bemusement. "…Couchy?"

"Well what would you name a couch, then?" she snapped back in defense.

"I wouldn't name it anything, as studies have shown that the application of names and other human characteristics to inanimate objects is the sign of a highly unstable mind."

"Well you would know, wouldn't you, Dr. Jekyll?" Christine shot back thoughtlessly. She froze suddenly, marveling at the level of her stupidity and callousness, as she realized that she had just made reference to the schizophrenia concerns Erik had divulged to her earlier that day in a surprising show of trust. _God, I am such an idiot…Sure, let's mock the highly sensitive, obviously traumatized man you are so fond of about his insecurities and emotional issues! That's bound to inspire his trust in you!_

Erik, for his part, was completely silent as he tried to sort out the torrent of emotions her off-handed remark had set off in him. First and foremost was dark wrath as he almost subconsciously added 'Dr. Jekyll' to the long list of insulting and demeaning names he had been dubbed with throughout his life, right underneath 'The Living Corpse' and 'The Devil's Child'. Next was a feeling of betrayal that Christine, who had only ever shown him limitless kindness and consideration before, seeming to know exactly when to comment on his numerous oddities and when to pretend that they didn't exist, would allow such a cruel barb to escape her beautiful mouth.

Suddenly, in a surprising moment of clarity, Erik allowed the memory of Christine's previous benevolence to penetrate through his haze of anger, and abruptly re-evaluated her earlier statement, realizing that she had said it neither out of anger nor of cruelty, but had simply let it slip in the manner of their usual light-hearted teasing. Feeling himself relax slightly at this revelation, he noticed Christine's obvious distress at her faux pas and felt the rest of his anger drain away at the evidence of her guilt. She cared. She genuinely cared about him and she was just as upset about her mistake as he was. Erik repeated this thought almost like a mantra to himself, still finding it almost impossible to believe that there was a woman in his life who truly seemed to care, until he finally felt he was calm enough to try and repair the situation.

"At least when I talk to my other half, he has the decency to answer. Something tells me you and _Couchy_ haven't had many scintillating conversations in the past," Erik declared calmly, as if nothing were amiss.

Christine whirled around to face Erik for the first time since he had entered the room, her startled look morphing quickly into a beaming smile that effectively stole all of the air out of his lungs.

"Couchy and I don't need to converse to express our love for one another," she countered. She decided that following his example of completely glossing over the whole situation would be the best course of action.

"Well, how nice for you and Couchy. Now, would you care to explain to me why you are still continuing with your futile attempts to turn Couchy into something remotely comfortable to sleep on when I have already informed you of my desire to sleep in the library, instead?"

"Oh, Erik, stop that! I already told you that-"

"I repeat, mademoiselle, that it was not a request. I will be sleeping in the library, and you will be sleeping in my bed," he declared matter-of-factly, using the full force of his piercing golden gaze to reinforce his statement.

Christine ignored the shiver of fear which that particular look always gave her, and responded with a rather lascivious grin. "Are you always so demanding when you order women to your bed?" she asked playfully. "There are far more subtle ways to go about it, you know, but if you insist…"

Erik gaped at her in open-mouthed shock, all of the blood draining from his face and leaving him paler than Christine considered physically possible for a human being. She couldn't help but giggle at his shell-shocked expression as she pranced past him towards the tiny linen closet in the hallway beside the bathroom.

Erik, finally recovering somewhat from his shock, though the mental images she had conjured into his head were sure to haunt him for a long time to come, slowly moved to assist her as she opened the cramped closet and began digging through the chaotic jumble of items in search of her inflatable bed. He was quickly distracted from his decidedly inappropriate thoughts, as he soon found all of his attention consumed by catching falling objects and collapsing shelves before they fell on Christine's head as her reckless searching disrupted the tenuous hold the contents of the closet had held against the pull of gravity. Finally, right as Erik became fully convinced that they were both going to meet their death buried under an avalanche of the most random and seemingly useless collection of junk ever to grace the Earth, Christine finally pulled the air mattress out of the wreckage with a triumphant cry.

Erik instantly slammed the door shut, dismissing the various bangs, clanks, and thunks of the closet suddenly losing what little semblance of order it had held as not his problem, and silently followed Christine into the library to help her make up his bed up.

As they silently spread a sheet over the air-filled mattress, Erik finally decided to broach the subject of Christine's distraught best friend.

"Is Meg going to be all right?" he asked quietly.

Christine smiled softly to herself, touched by his concern for a woman he had never even spoken to. "She'll be fine. Those Giry women are tough as nails. If it were anyone other than Daniel that had upset her, there would have been nothing left of the poor bastard," she declared with a wry grin. "Meg has a soft spot for him, though… They've never even had a real fight before… A few spats, but nothing major, and Danny's always been so sweet to her… I always kind of assumed they would end up getting married eventually… But now…" Christine trailed off, a worried glint entering her eyes.

Erik felt anger welling up inside him at the thought of Daniel's lack of action when his family attacked Meg. Though he had never really spoken with her, Erik had gotten to know the girl rather well during his time watching over Christine, and he had developed a surprising respect and affection for the bold, assertive girl who was such a good friend to Christine. Also, he knew from years of painful experience how it felt to be the brunt of such vicious attacks, with no one around who would defend you, and that was a feeling he would not wish on anybody. Despite Christine's previous belief that Daniel and Meg were destined to be married, Erik, for one, hoped that she would have nothing more to do with the spineless bastard after tonight.

"There, all done," Christine declared, studying her work with satisfaction. "Now, are you sure you won't just let me sleep in here tonight, Erik? It makes no sense for us to play musical beds when I can just as easily stay in here and not displace you from your room."

"Absolutely not. I am staying here tonight. Get thee to bed this instant, young lady! I want no more arguments from you!"

Christine grinned at his rare show of playfulness and, realizing that nothing would change his mind, made her way out of the library. She paused in the doorway, though, and turned to give Erik a soft smile of affection and gratitude. "Thanks, V."

Erik felt his heart do another one of those rather irritating flips he was growing accustomed to and couldn't control the warm, sincere smile that spread across his face. "It's my pleasure. _Bon nuit_, Christine."

He stared at the open doorway long after she was out of sight, struck suddenly by images of Christine stretched languorously across the black silken sheets of his bed and the realization that it was probably going to be the longest night of his life.

ECECECECECECECECECEC

Christine had just managed to drift off into the welcoming arms of sleep when the sound of the door creaking open roused her. She pried her eyes open and glanced over to see the silhouetted form of Erik standing in the doorway.

"Erik?" she muttered blearily. "What're you doing in here?"

"I've decided that I don't want to give up my bed, after all," he stated matter-of-factly, edging inside the room and closing the door behind him.

"'N I don't s'pose you coulda figured that out _before_ I fell asleep…" Christine grumbled, obviously aggravated at having been woken up. She yanked the covers away and sat up. "Here, have it back, all nice and warm and everythin'… I'll just go sleep in the library like I _tried_ to do in the first place…"

"And why would you do a thing like that?" Erik murmured silkily.

Christine, missing the seductive lilt to his voice in her drowsiness, shot him a scathing look. "Because I'm certainly not sleeping on the floor, you dolt."

"Well, there's plenty of room in this bed for both of us."

Christine felt her eyes nearly bulge out of her head at his declaration. "Um… There's… You—What, now?"

Erik looked entirely too amused with her confusion for her taste. Instead of responding, he slowly advanced forward and kneeled on the bed, a predatory gleam in his eyes, and placed his arms down on either side of Christine so that she was trapped beneath him. She was too shocked at his actions to form a coherent response, and it never occurred to her to fight against him as she felt him leaning forward slowly, his muscular chest pushing against her with gentle but insistent pressure until she was forced to lie back down.

Christine felt a shudder rake through her as the entire length of Erik's body was slowly pressed against hers, warmth coiling in her gut at the undisguised lust in his golden eyes. "Um… E—Erik? What the hell are you doing?" she stuttered.

Erik twisted his mouth to the side in a satisfied smirk, obviously pleased at the effect he was having on her. The satisfaction took on a decidedly predatory edge, and Christine felt a flush of heat spread across her body with an almost painful strength when he leaned forward and brought his lips to brush against her ear as he whispered, "Whatever I want to do."

Those were the last words spoken between them as Erik began pressing light kisses along Christine's jaw, slowly making his way down her neck towards her collarbone, and she suddenly lost the ability to form coherent sentences. He alternated feather-light brushes of his pale, thin lips with gentle nips to her neck and collar, which he followed with sensuous, open-mouthed kisses to soothe them. Christine, seemingly held under some invisible spell, could only lay helplessly under his ministrations, quivering and gasping as the sensations coursed through her.

Christine heard Erik growl his frustration as his mouth ventured lower down her chest and was suddenly met with the barrier of her nightgown. She felt herself being lifted up effortlessly with his one arm, while the other made short work of ridding her of the offending item, leaving her naked under his gaze. As his eyes, blazing almost yellow in their lust, roamed greedily over her exposed form, Christine finally managed to come to terms with the idea that her bodyguard was in the process of ravaging her, and she eventually regained enough of her mental facilities to participate in the process.

Deciding it was entirely unfair that she had been fully undressed while he managed to escape completely clothed, Christine sat up and tugged insistently at the hem of Erik's black shirt until he raised his arms obediently and allowed her to slip it off. She almost licked her lips at the sight of his pale, chiseled torso, and quickly reached out to trace the sculpted planes of his chest and abdomen as Erik resumed his previous task of exploring her body with his mouth, now that he had rid it of the obstructive fabric.

Christine, losing herself in the heady sensations Erik was causing her, let her hands bury into his silky hair, but when a particularly sharp flash of pleasure shot through her, causing her to jerk and arch her back in response, her hands accidentally knocked against the edges of Erik's mask, dislodging it from his face and causing it to fall beside her on the bed.

Erik sprang back with a snarl of rage, bringing his hands up to clutch at his face. The gesture was unnecessary though, as the dim lighting of the room hid his face in shadows so that only his eyes were visible. Christine wished, at that moment, that she could have seen the rest of his face, simply so that there would be something to distract from the murderous hatred and rage held in his piercing yellow gaze. Her cry of dismay was cut off into a choked cough as Erik's hands suddenly shot out and clamped around her delicate neck.

Christine, feeling icy terror flood through her veins, pounded on his arms and chest and tried desperately to plead with him to stop, but he endured her attacks passively, as if he barely even noticed them, and her attempts to speak came out as little more than hoarse, garbled syllables without oxygen to fuel them.

"Is your curiosity satisfied now? Is this what you wanted to see?" Erik hissed, clenching his hands tighter in a surge of anger. "Well, look your fill at the monster you have unmasked, Christine! It is the last thing you will ever see!" With that, he leaned forward into the beam of light streaming from the door leading into the hallway, bringing his face slowly into visibility until…

Christine sprang up with a jolt, her hands clutched to her throat and her breath coming in frantic, ragged gasps. It took a few moments for the knowledge that she had just been dreaming to reach her terror-stricken mind, but finally she collapsed back onto the bed in relief. She lay still for a long moment, taking in deep, full breaths, as if to reassure herself that she could, and holding a hand to her throat protectively.

"That was wrong on so many levels…" she breathed out, running her hand through her hair and attempting to steady her erratic heartbeat. "I go twenty-three years without so much as kissing someone in my dreams, and then the first time I do manage a wet dream, the man ends up trying to kill me… What does that say about me, Ayesha?"

The rather disgruntled cat curled up beside her head simply gave an annoyed mewl and proceeded to clean her paws. Christine gave a weak laugh and reached out to stroke her absently.

She had thought that she was reasonably unaffected by the events of the previous night, but her dream seemed to indicate that her attempted kidnapping had disturbed her more than she had thought. That was to be expected, she supposed. After all, two men did break into her bedroom and hold a knife to her throat. What she would not have expected, though, was for her fear to be aimed at her bodyguard, not her attackers.

Yes, her two kidnappers were frightening, but they were just your average, run-of-the-mill criminals. They were nothing compared to the wrathful creature that had stormed into her bedroom and nearly killed both of them with barely a thought. _Would _have killed both of them, had she not been there to plead for mercy on their behalf. And the way his eyes had looked when he finally locked gazes with her…

Christine shuddered involuntarily at the memory.

He was such a contradiction, her bodyguard… He had stormed in and gone after her first attacker with all the rage and fury of a warrior lost to bloodlust. The second man he had taken down with the cold, calculated moves of an assassin. Yet, when he had looked at her, though his eyes held flashes of both the fire and ice with which he attacked, the overall expression held in his gaze had been far more disturbing... It was empty. It was almost as if the emotions coursing through his being were so powerful that they blocked out the humanity that inspired them, becoming overwhelming forces that drove his actions without his thoughts and feelings present to direct them. Erik in his rage was possibly the most terrifying thing she had ever witnessed.

Christine ran a hand over her eyes with a groan, settling back and trying to block thoughts of Erik out of her mind so that she could return to sleep. As soon as she closed her eyes, though, images of her dream began to flash through her head.

"Oh… I'll never be able to go back to bed now… Honestly, I thought that having a bodyguard was supposed to _help_ me sleep at night, not keep me from it…" Christine grumbled to herself as she stood reluctantly from her bed, shivering as the cold night air hit her skin. She was clad in only a nightgown of black silk and red lace, a rather humorous birthday present from Meg, she remembered, which she had never before worn but had found hanging in the bathroom closet and decided to sleep in since all of her typical pajamas were in her bedroom, and to retrieve any would have meant disturbing Meg. She was beginning to regret her decision, though, and glanced around for a robe to wrap around herself to keep warm, but then realized that she was in Erik's bedroom and had no idea where he kept his clothes, and therefore decided it was far too much effort.

On silent dancer's feet, she padded through the hall towards the kitchen, intent on raiding her chocolate stash as a way to ease her troubled mind. She halted, though, upon noticing the thin beam of light streaming from under the crack of the library's door. Her first instinct was to simply creep back to her bedroom and avoid having to deal with Erik at all. Images of him with a murderous gleam in his inhuman eyes and his hands clamped around her neck were still hovering around the edges of her consciousness, and she didn't think that being in his presence would do anything to calm her.

A soft sound of distress from inside the library, though, had her instantly forgetting her worries and barging instinctively into the room. She was met with the sight of Erik slumped over the piano lifelessly, his hands positioned as if he were in the middle of a song and his neck bent at an uncomfortable angle with his head cushioned on the keys. Christine felt her heart stop as, for one terrible moment, she believed him to be dead. Another quiet whimper and a slight shifting of his shoulders showed that he was simply sleeping, and Christine became almost dizzy with relief.

"So he does sleep, after all…" she murmured wryly to herself, a slight grin twisting her mouth. "And he sleeps shirtless, apparently. That's unexpected."

Christine allowed herself a moment to survey Erik's half-naked form, deciding, as she took in the corded, perfectly sculptured muscles of his back and arms, that her subconscious hadn't even begun to do him justice. She also decided then and there that she far preferred the whipcord-lean build that Erik possessed over the bulkier musculatures of most of the men she had dated.

"Make up your mind… Are you attracted to the man, or terrified of him?" she whispered irritably at herself, walking towards Erik with the intent of waking him and relocating him to a more comfortable sleeping place. She stopped dead in her tracks, gasping in horror, as she got close enough to realize that the markings she had taken to be shadows falling across him were actually a network of scars that solidly covered his back. They criss-crossed in all different directions, greatly varying in size and not seeming to follow any sort of pattern, and while some were no more than silvery lines shining against his already pale skin, others were angry red welts that stood out from his back in ridges, creating a topography on his skin as if it were some kind of map detailing all the horrors of his life.

Christine suddenly felt a surge of guilt wash through her at letting herself be so frightened by Erik's behavior the previous night. After all, he had just been protecting her… And, if his scar-riddled body was anything to go by, it was a wonder that the man was as well-adjusted as he was, with everything he must have endured in his life.

Erik mumbled something in his sleep, his eyes rolling around beneath his eyelids and his shoulders tightening in obvious distress. Christine stepped forward and began to run her fingers lovingly through his hair, singing under her breath in an attempt to soothe away whatever nightmare he was having. Erik relaxed almost instantly, his earlier sounds of distress morphing into moans of contentment.

Christine smiled softly to herself, waiting until she felt him stirring into wakefulness to speak.

"You know, Erik, if I had known that this was what you had in mind when you asked to sleep in the library, I would have saved myself the trouble of inflating your bed."

Erik gave a sleepy grumble that was part chuckle, part something resembling a purr, and Christine tried very hard to convince herself that her knees didn't practically buckle at the sound.

"You're going to wish you had taken advantage of all my hard work tomorrow, when you're walking around with your head at a ninety-degree angle because your neck gets stuck that way." Her hands strayed out of his hair and began to massage his neck, apparently deciding to help his abused muscles out, despite her teasing.

"Hadn't exactly planned on falling asleep like this…" he rumbled, and Christine felt a shiver rake through her at the husky timbre sleep gave to his voice. "What times'it?"

She grinned a bit at the way his usually perfectly articulated words slurred together in his drowsiness. "Probably around three in the morning, if I were to make a guess. Didn't exactly check the clock."

"What're you… mmm, that feels good… doing up?" he murmured, unable to keep from moaning as Christine worked her way down to his shoulders and massaged out all of the kinks in his incredibly tense back. She was amazed at how relaxed he was acting. Never before had she been allowed to touch him so freely without sending him into a borderline panic attack. Christine quickly decided that she liked this barely-conscious side of him a lot, even if she was only giving him a massage for the sake of his health, considering the awkward position in which he had slept that night. She wasn't enjoying rubbing her hands all over his back at all. Well… not much. Maybe a little.

"Oh, well, you know, I finally saw you eat last night at the party, so I figured I might as well stake you out and see if I could catch you sleeping, too." Christine explained breezily, deciding it was probably a better response than: '_Oh, I had a dream that you tried to seduce me, and succeeded quite easily, I might add, and then decided to choke the life out of me, and I've been finding it rather difficult to fall back asleep ever since._' That probably wouldn't go over so well… "I wanted to finally prove to myself that you really are human!" she exclaimed instead, tugging a lock of his hair playfully.

"As opposed to?" Erik responded, amusement obviously coloring his voice.

"Alien, vampire, supervillain…"

"All of which sleep," he interrupted matter-of-factly.

"And just how would you know? Have you ever encountered any?"

Erik didn't bother to respond, except by grumbling something unintelligible under his breath and sitting up slightly, trying to rouse his sleep-addled brain. He shivered slightly as Christine switched from massaging his shoulders to running her fingers lightly across his back, tracing seemingly random patterns across his skin. He closed his eyes and bit back a moan, relishing in the feel of her fingers on his bare skin… Wait, bare skin? Erik froze suddenly as he realized that he had taken his shirt off at some point the previous night, and the patterns she was tracing across his back were far too familiar to be completely random…

Christine knew the instant Erik realized that she had seen his scars, wincing as she felt his muscles tense up beneath her hands and undo all of the work she had just done in loosening them up.

"Oh, Erik…" she murmured sadly. "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?" he responded, though it sounded like the words had to be forced out of his throat. He stayed with his back turned to her as he spoke, every muscle in his body tightened defensively as if he expected a blow.

"Tense up like I'm about to attack you or something every time anything personal about you gets brought up… I mean, you've been living with me for months, now, and I still don't know the slightest bit about your past… Why is that, Erik? Haven't I earned any of your trust?"

"Does it look like I've been given much reason to trust people in the past?" he growled cynically.

Christine stared at the legion of markings across his skin, admitting silently that he had a point. "Erik… You know I would never hurt you like that."

"Not all injuries are physical," he murmured, almost to himself.

"So, what? Do you think that your past is so terrible that I can't handle to learn about it? Are you afraid that I'll hate you or something after I learn what you've been through? That's hardly fair."

"Fair?" Erik spat, whirling around suddenly and standing so that he towered over Christine, his golden eyes flashing yellow in anger. "What do you know of fair?"

Christine stumbled back a few steps, stopping just shy of running into a bookcase. Her earlier dreams surfaced to her mind instantly, and she felt her hand coming up to rub at her neck protectively. However, her temper, though slow to rise, was quite formidable when it did get provoked, and she quickly fought her fear back down. Placing her hands firmly on her hips, she straightened her back in an attempt to decrease the height difference between them as much as possible and leveled him a glare.

"I know that I haven't given you any reason to believe that I can't handle hearing about your past, or to think that I'll judge you. You're underestimating me, Erik," she declared firmly.

"You think so?" he asked quietly, his mercurial eyes darkening almost to black as he advanced several steps towards her, so that she was now trapped between him and the bookcase. "Look!" he barked out suddenly, pointing to a jagged scar running across the front of his neck; a scar that stopped just shy of crossing his jugular vein.

Christine couldn't contain her gasp as she saw evidence of how close to death Erik had nearly come.

"My own _mother _did this to me!" he snarled, slamming his hands against the shelves on either side of her, his arms effectively caging her in, and his face mere inches from hers. "What makes you any different?"

Christine couldn't respond, too stricken with horror at the thought that Erik's mother had tried to kill him and too wary of the manic rage burning in his eyes to risk provoking him more.

Erik stared at her, his chest heaving from his fury and his breath ghosting over her lips. "Well?" He studied her intently, almost hoping that she _would _say something to contradict him. Wishing, although he would never admit it, that she would force him to trust her.

When Christine didn't respond, his eyes grew cold and a cruel, bitter smirk twisted at his lips. "That's what I thought..."

Without another word, Erik ripped his hands away from the bookshelf and stalked out of the room.


	17. Chapter 17

**Guarded Hearts**

_All recognizable characters are property of either Gaston Leroux or Susan Kay_

See? I didn't even make y'all wait a whole month! I'm getting better about this...

Right, well, as Craftydevil said to me in her review of the previous chapter, "So Christine is wearing a silky lace nightie and Erik is shirtless...he has just stalked away from her once more assured that no human being will ever care for him...GO! Start the next chapter!"

Erik paced restlessly around the confines of his bedroom, feeling the familiar sense of claustrophobia that enveloped him whenever he was upset, which always brought flashes of cold metal bars and cruel, leering faces up from the depths of his memories. He looked like some kind of caged predator stalking the boundaries of its enclosure, as if constantly searching for a means of escape.

Erik's first instinct upon storming away from Christine had been to flee the apartment and its suffocating walls that suddenly seemed too small to hold all of his anger and pain. Even in the depths of his rage, though, he could not imagine leaving Christine unguarded in her apartment, especially after the attack the previous night, so he instead settled for locking himself in his bedroom.

His mind was a chaotic tangle of anger, depression, disappointment, resentment and other dark emotions that combined to leave his head buzzing and the bitter taste of bile rising in the back of his throat. Despite the fact that Erik had lashed out at Christine only minutes before, most of these emotions were aimed at himself, not at her. After all, what had she really done aside from asking questions about things she had every right to know? Did she not deserve to know the truth behind the man to whom her life had been entrusted?

Then again, did he not deserve even a sliver of happiness for once in his miserable life? How could he possibly tell Christine everything about his past and risk losing the only normalcy his life had ever held? Christine treated him like a normal human being, a _friend_, and he knew that if she learned the truth about his past she would never be able to look at him the same.

_But that's her decision to make. What right do you have to keep the truth from her?_

Erik growled in frustration, reaching out to grab the lamp off of his nightstand, and had his arm raised to smash it against the floor when a tentative knock on his door caused him to freeze.

"Erik? Can I come in?" Christine asked timidly. Erik remained frozen with the lamp still raised above his head, too startled to respond. What was she doing at his door? No one ever willingly sought him out after one of his fits…

Christine apparently interpreted his silence as a no, because she settled on talking to him through the closed door. "Look, I'm sorry I upset you earlier. It's your life and you have every right not to talk about it if you don't want to… I didn't mean to pressure you into telling me anything about yourself."

Wait… _She _was apologizing to _him_?

"I'm not trying to be intrusive, Erik, but I absolutely _hate _that you still feel that you have to hide things from me! I just… What more do I have to do to prove to you that I'm not going anywhere?"

Erik continued to stare at the door in shock, the vehement frustration in her voice rendering him speechless. Could he _possibly _mean enough to her to inspire such strong emotions?

"I can tell that your life hasn't exactly been easy," Christine continued, unaware of how her confession was affecting him. "And I thought… I don't know. I thought that maybe it would make you feel better if you had someone to talk to about all of this. I mean, I vent to you about all of my problems, and they must be nothing compared to what you've been through… I don't want you to feel like I can't handle hearing about all of that. I will always be willing to listen to you, Erik, if you ever decide that you want to open up to someone."

When Erik still could not manage to respond, he heard her give a melancholy sigh.

"Right… I'll leave you alone now."

Before Erik could even realize what he was doing, he had rushed to his bedroom door and flung it open, suddenly finding himself face-to-face with a very startled Christine. He immediately realized that slamming the door shut in her face would be the wisest course of action. Unfortunately, his muscles had ceased to function as soon as he laid eyes on her.

Without his irrational fury coursing through him, Erik was able to notice for the first time what Christine was currently wearing. The silky black and red slip clung seductively to her form, making it quite obvious that she was not wearing anything underneath it, and Erik was quite sure he had never wanted anything so much before in his life.

_She is trying to kill me._

"Um… Erik?" Christine inquired nervously, jarring him back to reality.

He instantly ripped his eyes away from her, his face burning in shame, and made a slight beckoning gesture with his head to usher Christine inside, since his voice (along with all of his breath) had been stolen by the sight of Christine in her nightgown.

Christine stepped past Erik and strode tentatively into his room. When Erik made no move to follow her, she sat at the edge of his bed and gave him a look that seemed to ask 'Now what?'

Right. Now what? He had invited her in here for a reason, hadn't he? They had been… fighting? Over what? Oh, yes. His past. As Erik finally recalled the prior events of the evening, he was able to push away the surprisingly powerful fog of lust that had enveloped his brain and regain most of his mental facilities. He turned his back on Christine, aware that continuing to look at her in her current state would prove to be very dangerous. He also knew that he would never be able to summon the strength to do what he was about to do if he were facing her.

Christine's sincere apology had only managed to strengthen the guilt that had been gnawing away at Erik over his actions, and he knew that the only way to absolve his pitiful excuse for a conscience would be to reveal the truth of his past to her, even if he knew that in doing so he ran the risk of losing her completely.

Unable to think of an appropriate explanation to his actions, and wanting desperately to get this over with so that his panic, which felt like a shard of ice twisting painfully in his gut, would cease, Erik decided to dive right into his story.

"I was born in France," he began without preamble, ignorant of the look of complete shock Christine gave him at these words. "My mother was an aspiring singer turned heroin junkie, and I have no clue who or what my father was. He left my mother the day I was born."

Erik paced a few feet into the room, stopping to stare out the window at the half-moon that glowed dimly above them. "My birth was not a happy occasion. The pregnancy was very difficult for my mother, the delivery even more so… And then, when they saw my face… My mother was always convinced that my appearance is what caused my father to abandon us. Evidently she was quite tempted to follow his example and give me up for adoption as soon as I was old enough. She wouldn't even allow them to put a last name on my birth certificate…"

"She wouldn't… Wait… Where did 'Draven' come from, then?" Christine interrupted.

Erik noticed that she kept her voice carefully even and emotionless, and he wanted desperately to turn around and see what she was feeling, but he still would not look at her as he responded. "That was just a name Nadir made up when we first moved to America. He thought it would give our business more credibility if I actually had a surname I could sign on our legal documents. Come to think of it, he may have stolen it from that Crow movie you made me watch a few months ago. Nadir has a warped sense of humor…"

Christine couldn't think of an appropriate response, so she simply waited patiently for Erik to resume his story, knowing that this was something he had to do at his own pace.

"Unfortunately, my mother did not put me up for adoption. She was living off welfare checks at the time, and she discovered that the government paid more now that she was an unemployed single mother than they had previously, so she decided I was worth keeping around, after all.

Our relationship was… strained, at best. My appearance repulsed her, of course, but, more than that, I frightened her. I advanced and matured far more quickly than other children my age, and even at such a young age my voice and musical proficiency were obviously… abnormal. All of that, paired with my face, was enough to convince my superstitious mother that I was some kind of an abomination, some demonic being sent to her in punishment for her sins…"

Christine watched in concern as Erik absent-mindedly touched the jagged scar on his throat.

"For all of her hatred of me, my mother was not usually physically abusive. She would occasionally fling dishes or other objects my way in the midst of her rages and heroin fits, but she would never strike me."

"So, that scar on your neck…?" Christine asked, suddenly hopeful that it had just been caused by some accident with a shattered dish. It was a strange thing to be hoping for, but when the alternative was Erik's mother actively trying to slit his throat…

"Ah. Yes. Well, that was the one exception… That scar was acquired the only time I ever asked my mother for a hug." Erik's voice suddenly turned so dark and bitter that Christine could barely recognize it as his, and it caused icy chills to spread through her. "Her response was to rip my mask off and drag me in front of a mirror so that I could see my face for the first time. She held me there and made me look so I would understand why she could never bring herself to hug me… In my struggle to get free, I knocked the mirror off and it shattered on the floor, and suddenly my mother grabbed one of the shards and sobbed something about saving me before-"

Christine's choked noise of distress stopped Erik from continuing, and he had to force himself not to turn around and check on her, knowing that he would never be able to continue if he did.

"I managed to escape before she could do any serious damage, and then I ran as far away from that place as I could…"

"Where did you go?" Christine interrupted softly, trying desperately to make her voice come out evenly, despite the tears winding their way down her cheeks.

"Even in my isolation from the rest of the world, I had read enough books to know of the cliché of children running away to join the circus, and when I happened to stumble upon a traveling fair after several days living on the street, it seemed like it was fate. I approached one of the workers that night and told him that I would do any kind of work for free, as long as they would feed me and let me travel with them. He agreed readily enough, and I went to sleep that night feeling incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon the fair… I woke up in a cage."

In the back of his mind, Erik questioned the dramatic way he was delivering this story, wondering what kind of unhealthy motivations were pushing him to give such a detailed, theatrical presentation of his life when he had initially only planned to give Christine the basic facts that she deserved to hear. He discovered, though, that once he had opened the floodgates, there was no closing them, and despite his turmoil he continued his account in the same manner.

"Apparently the man's curiosity had gotten the better of him, and when I was unconscious he decided to peek under the mask to see why I was wearing it. When he discovered exactly what manner of child had stumbled into his tent, he decided I would be a far more valuable asset to the fair as an attraction, rather than a laborer. At nights I was kept caged in the menagerie, along with all the other beasts, and during the day I was released and escorted out of my cage to perform. It certainly wouldn't do for the audience to believe I was being kept against my will, after all… To them I was just another performer forsaking all pride and self-respect in an effort to earn money.

At first the fair-goers simply paid for the privilege of seeing my hideous countenance… But one night my captor caught me singing myself to sleep, and once he realized the power of my voice he decided to use it for his own benefit. My performance changed so that, instead of simply unmasking as soon as my tent was full, I instead had to sing to the crowd first, entrancing them with my voice. I watched every day as my songs filled their eyes with admiration and wonder… only to see it change into revulsion as soon as I ripped my mask off… I had to watch children screaming in fear, and men and women jeering at me, all of them morbidly fascinated with 'The Living Corpse'… This hideous demon with the voice of an angel…"

"Oh, Erik!" Christine cried out suddenly, unable to disguise the horror in her voice. "Why didn't you try to escape? Why would you stand there and let those horrible things happen to you? You said that they let you free when you performed!"

Erik's mouth twisted up slightly, but there was no hint of humor in his smirk. "Free is not an accurate word to describe what I was. Out of my cage, yes, but there were always precautions in place… Besides, my captor and his coworkers regularly made a point of instilling fear and submissiveness into me. Many of these scars that I bear are from them."

Erik paused for a moment, trying to decipher the emotions behind Christine's ragged breaths, but he could not bring himself to look at her and discover the truth. Instead, he simply continued on as if he heard nothing. "Despite their attempts, though, I vowed to myself that if I ever saw a sympathetic face in my audience… One single being who showed pity and compassion, not disgust, at my loathsome visage, and who might take my side if they realized I was a prisoner there, then I would try to escape. Just one single ally to prove to me that somewhere in the world was someone who might learn to look past my appearance… But I never found one.

Eventually it became too much, though, and I decided, even with my knowledge that the world had no true place for me in it, that I could no longer continue my caged, powerless existence. That night, when my captor came to feed me, I hypnotized him with my voice and I…" Erik trailed off, utterly incapable of finishing his sentence.

_I _cannot _tell her this! I _cannot _give up the only happiness in my pitiful existence! I will not frighten away the only woman I have ever loved! _Erik practically screamed in his mind, his fists clenching and unclenching beside him as panic began to overtake him.

_Would you lie to her, instead? Enshroud your entire past and continue to deceive 'the only woman you have ever loved'? The one person in the world who has not treated you as a monster, and yet you would act so monstrously towards her?_

Erik braced himself against the windowsill, trying to conceal his violent trembling, and silently cursed Nadir for trying for so long to instill a conscience into him that the Iranian's voice was preaching morality to him even if the man himself was nowhere near…

_And now, I lose her forever…_

"I killed him." Erik paused, trying to judge Christine's reaction to this news, but she had gone suddenly silent. _Well, no turning back now…_

"I stole the keys off of his body and ran away," he continued in a trembling voice. "By this point the fair had traveled into the Middle East, and I found myself in some unknown part of Iran. It was, of course, a crime-riddled area of the country, because our fair never made stops in the nice parts of town. Its employees weren't the kind of people who had good relationships with law enforcement…

I went back to living on the streets, and I learned quickly enough how to keep myself hidden from sight, seeing as I no longer had any illusions that strangers would be inclined to trust or give aid to someone like me. My talent for going unseen lent itself well to thievery, so I began to pickpocket as a means of survival. One day, though, I made the mistake of pick pocketing the leader of a local gang… He, of course, caught me in the act. Instead of killing me, Siavash decided my talents could be useful to him, and he recruited me into his gang, instead. I didn't have much choice in the matter, but I doubt I would have refused, even if I had. By this point I was barely a teenager, and I had never had anyone try to instill a sense of morals in me. Cruelty, hatred, and imprisonment were all I had ever known, so for someone to offer me a chance to belong to a group, where people would look after me and consider me an ally and a partner… It was intoxicating.

At first I simply contributed my abilities as a thief, albeit on a far larger scale than I was used to. My days of common pick-pocketing were over. However, some of the men in the gang, usually the ones with aspirations of rising within the ranks, were none too happy with the 'scrawny little masked freak' who had gained so much attention from Siavash. They took it upon themselves to find out what I was hiding behind my mask, and that resulted in many brutal fights during my first few months with them. Though I was much smaller and weaker than all of my attackers, fear of being unmasked inspired an almost unnatural ferocity and determination in my fighting, and I always managed to escape their attempts.

Ironically enough, these fights gave Siavash an even greater interest in me due to my natural fighting abilities, and he eventually began to give me combat lessons. I threw myself into the lessons without reserve. After feeling powerless my whole life, there was nothing I wanted more than to assure that people would never be able to have control over me again. My skill advanced far more quickly than I'm sure even Siavash was anticipating, and I was only about sixteen years old when he finally revealed to me the purpose behind all my training. I was to become his own personal assassin. His Angel of Death," Erik added darkly, unconsciously straightening to his full height and tilting his face into the shadows, striking a pose that was meant to instill fear in those who saw him, as he had learned to do when confronting his victims. Christine made a slight noise in the back of her throat, but Erik ignored it, aware now that every new horror he revealed to her was just another nail in the coffin of his chances at happiness.

"Siavash must have sensed my initial discomfort with the idea, because he quickly assured me that I would only be used to take out criminals and killers, whether they were members of a rival gang or traitors found within our own. This seemed acceptable to my twisted sense of morals, and I was always eager to please this man who had rescued me from the streets and shown me the closest thing to kindness I had ever known. I accepted his orders, and though the first few assignments left me nauseous and shaken, I soon learned a way to detach my mind from my body, letting this emotionless creature take over that seemed to revel in its tasks. You saw it happen yesterday, when those men attacked you…" Erik trailed off, feeling an almost physical pain as he remembered the way Christine had flinched away from him after that. That was surely nothing compared to how she would treat him after he had finished his story.

"I became somewhat of a legend, referred to by rival gangs, and even within my own, as 'The Angel of Death', or occasionally 'The Phantom' due to my abilities to remain unseen no matter where I staged my attacks.

My days in Iran were not exactly happy… I still had no friendship, no kindness or affection in my life… But I had respect, and I had fear, and a sense of belonging for the first time in my life, and I could not imagine giving up my position. After all, what was so terrible about a brutal, amoral life, so long as I was no longer abused, and I didn't have to sleep in an attic or a cage?

My temporary peace was disrupted, though, when Siavash discovered that one of our recently acquired members was actually an undercover police officer. That sort of betrayal could only be handled in one way, but the man was too skilled of a fighter for one of the usual thugs to take him out, so of course I was dispatched to kill him."

Erik trailed off pensively as he recalled this pivotal point in his life.

"Though I'd had every intention of following through with my orders, when the time came I found that I… I couldn't do it. Thieves and murderers were one thing… Cutthroat, vicious men just like me who deserved the fate I brought to them… But this man was not a criminal. He was an upstanding member of society, someone who had been risking his life for months now just to try and bring us to justice… And I found that I simply could not shut down my conscience, no matter how hard I tried. I could not retreat into my 'killing trance' and allow my murderous impulses to take over.

Instead, I helped him escape, foolishly thinking that the others would never find out about my transgression. Of course I could never actually be that lucky... Unfortunately for me, Siavash seemed to understand me better than I understood myself, and he had sent someone after me to affirm that I had completed my task. By the time I got back, I had an ambush waiting on me.

I put up a fight, but I was greatly outnumbered, and I was on the verge of death when the man I had inexplicably decided to save suddenly appeared. He had guessed what would happen to me if my betrayal were discovered, and I suppose he wanted to repay my act of mercy, so he stepped in at the last minute and saved me.

We knew that neither of us would be safe if we remained in the country, so he quickly set about getting me false identifications and a passport, which is rather simple if you work in law enforcement, apparently, and we fled to Europe together."

"The cop was Nadir, of course," Erik declared suddenly, confirming Christine's suspicions. "After that we traveled all over the world together… Or rather, I traveled and he followed… The man is quite persistent, and evidently he is convinced that the experience we shared has bound us together in some irreversible way.

We would stay in countries long enough to learn the language and teach ourselves different skills and work in various professions, but I always grew restless again after several years. Growing up in a cage can have that effect on people, apparently. We settled here in America about six years ago and started up the business together…" Erik trailed off slowly, suddenly aware that he had reached the end of his story and would soon have to face Christine and her reaction.

_Now comes the part where she tells me to get the hell away from her and never come near her again…_

Erik tried to fight down the surge of anguish that thought caused in him, but it was no use. Finally unable to stand the waiting any longer, Erik turned around to face Christine. He was shocked to find her sitting on the edge of the bed with silent tears running down her face, and he felt his heart shatter within his chest at the sight.

"Oh, Christine…" he gasped brokenly. "Don't cry."

Christine could only stare at him, her expression a confusing jumble of emotions, and Erik staggered backwards as a sob was suddenly wrenched from her mouth, the noise hitting him like a physical blow and pulling a matching cry from his own throat.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" he murmured over and over, each tear that poured from her sapphire eyes stabbing into him like a knife. How could he have ever considered hiding this from her? How could he try to conceal that it was a mass-murderer she had allowed to place blood-soaked hands upon her… He was a wretch, worse than the monster he had been labeled all his life, for ever conspiring to deceive her in such a way.

Erik began babbling in a desperate attempt to stop her flow of tears. "I'll call Nadir right now and he'll send over someone else to guard you so I can leave tonight. You will never have to see me again, I promise, Christine. I am so sorry I li-"

"Oh, shut up already, you idiotic man!" Christine cried out suddenly, her voice choked with tears.

Erik jumped back in shock as Christine suddenly stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist, but she seemed to be expecting this and squeezed him to her tightly so that his violent reaction did not put any distance between them.

"Ch—Christine! What are you doing?" Erik stuttered, his usually eloquent words tripping over each other in his shock. His body felt so tense against hers that Christine thought it might snap if she held him any tighter.

"Comforting you, damnit. Now be quiet and let me hold you."

Erik's mind was reeling in confusion, and he remained stiff and unresponsive in her arms, waiting for the moment when Christine's senses returned and she fled his presence.

"I told you I wasn't going anywhere, Erik, and I meant it," Christine declared fiercely, as if in response to his unspoken thoughts.

"But… I'm a killer, Christine!"

"I don't care."

Christine knew it was true the instant she made the declaration, and that fact frightened her more than anything Erik had revealed about his past. This man had the blood of countless men on his hands, but all she could concentrate on was the lonely, miserable life Erik had faced from the moment he was born, the ridicule and pain he had suffered and the fact that he had received not even the smallest scrap of kindness or affection until Nadir…

She could barely comprehend the idea of what his life must have been like. It didn't even seem real to her… His mother trying to slit his throat with a broken mirror, being imprisoned in a freak show, and then used as an assassin in some Middle Eastern mafia... It all seemed much too far-fetched for her. If it weren't for the raw emotions in his voice as he spoke and the physical evidence located all over his body, Christine doubted she would have even believed him.

Yes, Erik had killed hundreds of people, but how could she condemn him for that when she was suddenly certain that, before he had come to live with her, he had never experienced any form of physical contact that was not the result of violence?

That thought made her tighten her arms around him even more and bury her face into his chest, suddenly desperate to make up for a lifetime without contact in a matter of moments. Her mind gave a victorious cry as she suddenly felt Erik's arms come up and wrap around her with the same frantic strength with which she held him, crushing her to him even more and burying his face in her hair as tremors violently wracked his frame.

They clung to each other for what felt like hours, taking comfort in each other as they tried to sort through the torrent of emotions that Erik's story had let loose. Christine was overwhelmed with anger and sorrow over all that had been done to Erik during his life, as well as apprehension over how little his past sins seemed to bother her. Surely finding out that her friend had killed people for a living when he was still just a teenager should have alarmed her far more than finding out that his mother had never even given him a hug. The level of concern and compassion that she felt for Erik actually frightened her. Never before had she felt this strongly about a man, and she tried not to question it too deeply, since she did not want to consider the implications of these emotions.

Erik was dealing with the pain that always overtook him when he allowed himself to relive his past, but, more than anything, he was overcome by the fact that Christine was still there, with her arms around him. He had finally admitted to her that he was nothing but a monster and a murderer, and she said she didn't care. The emotions which Christine inspired in Erik had always been overwhelming to him, but now they had grown to a point where he felt like they might suffocate him.

Would this woman never cease to amaze him? Could she really look past all his evil deeds and see the pain and anguish that had led him to commit them? Could she really understand the reasons behind his actions and not condemn him for them? Could those really be tears of compassion, not of fear, that were soaking into his chest?

"Poor Erik…" Christine moaned suddenly, once again seeming to respond to his mental questions. Even in the midst of his overwhelming emotions, Erik felt a thrill go through him at the sensation of her lips brushing against his bare chest as she spoke.

Christine, finally getting her tears under control, pulled back enough to look into Erik's face, though she kept her arms locked firmly around his waist, to his delight. "I'm so sorry I made you go through all of that again… I had no idea it would be so painful… But I'm glad you told me, Erik."

Erik stared at her in complete bewilderment, as if she were some kind of complicated puzzle that he was trying to solve. "Ch—Christine… I don't understand. I killed hundreds of people… I murdered them for money, without a thought or a care, and I was glad to do it! H—how can you not care about that?"

"How _could _I care?" Christine countered immediately. "God, Erik… Just think about everything you had been through by that point! You had never known anything but cruelty and hatred! How could anyone expect you to be any different? The fact that you showed Nadir compassion when no one had ever shown you any speaks more about your character than anything!" When she saw that the doubt and self-loathing still had not left Erik's eyes, she continued. "Nadir obviously thinks so. Why else would he have stuck with you after all these years?"

Erik, for once in his life, was at a total loss for what to say.

"Have you killed anyone else since the day you rescued him?" Christine asked quietly, somehow certain that she already knew the answer.

Erik could only shake his head mechanically.

"So then why do you still carry the burden of guilt over things you did years ago, in your incredibly troubled childhood? If anyone should feel guilty for what you did, it's your wretched mother!" Christine exclaimed with surprising ferocity.

Despite the hope that Erik felt welling up in his chest at Christine's reaction, he felt himself shaking his head in denial. "The things I have done, Christine… I do not deserve your forgiveness for them."

"Well you have it, nonetheless." She stared him straight in the eyes, letting him know unequivocally that nothing was going to change that. Erik nodded slightly, acknowledging her silent challenge and agreeing to let the matter drop, and Christine finally allowed her arms to drop away from him. Erik reluctantly followed her example, though he felt cold and bereft without her body pressed against his.

Christine smiled gently at him before turning to sit on his bed, her back resting against the headboard. Erik stared at her unblinkingly, trying to memorize the sight of this beautiful woman sitting in his bed, and still marveling over the miraculous fact that she was still in the same room as him. When Christine saw that he had no intention of moving of his own accord, she patted the space beside her in invitation and gave Erik a reassuring, hopeful smile.

Erik's eyes widened in shock at the invitation, but he was certainly not going to pass up the opportunity presented to him, and timidly moved to crawl onto the bed beside her. As soon as he was settled against the headboard beside her, Christine leaned and nestled her head against his shoulder.

Erik caught his breath in amazement. Never, even in his wildest fantasies, had he ever dared to dream that this would be the result of telling Christine about his past. Tentatively, he lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulder, feeling a fierce surge of happiness go through him when Christine's response was to hum contentedly and snuggle in even closer against him.

She grinned to herself at his uncharacteristic boldness. It would appear they were making progress. Nestled against his side like this, she discovered that Erik's whole body was cool to the touch, not just his hands, and though it worried her that it might be a sign of poor health, she found that she didn't mind the sensation at all. Besides, Erik didn't seem unhealthy… Maybe it was just another one of those unique traits he possessed that made him so vastly different from anyone else she had ever met.

"I wouldn't tell Meg that you saw me cry, if I were you," Christine stated quietly, attempting to restore a sense of normalcy to the moment by striking up conversation.

Erik raised an eyebrow at this odd statement. "Oh, and why not?"

Though he tried to conceal it, the bemusement in his voice could not disguise the tone of shock and almost childlike wonder inspired in him by Christine's calm acceptance of his past.

"Meg is convinced I don't actually have tear ducts, since she's never seen me cry in the four years we've known each other. If she finds out that I broke down in front of you, she's never going to leave me, or you for that matter, alone about it." Christine tilted her head slightly to shoot him an impish grin. "Trust me, you don't want that girl on your case."

"It will be our secret, then," Erik promised solemnly, though he couldn't help the grin that broke out across his face.

Christine giggled lightly and settled back against him. Her glance was drawn to Erik's pale, bare abdomen in appreciation as his answering chuckle caused the muscles in it to tighten attractively. Her smile died on her face, though, when she noticed that Erik's chest and stomach, though not solidly covered in scars like his back, still showed obvious proof of his violent upbringing.

She reached out without thinking and began to lightly trace a jagged scar just to the left of his navel, noticing a similar one slightly above and to the right of that one. Erik's whole body tightened in response to her gentle touch, and he had to clench his teeth together to keep from releasing a moan of desire as her hands trailed across his bare flesh.

"You weren't kidding when you told me you had been stabbed in the gut twice, were you?" Christine asked quietly, oblivious to Erik's lustful reaction. She thought back to the conversation they had held when her menstrual cramps had so disturbed him, and suddenly felt a flush of guilt over the dismissive way she had reacted to that statement.

Erik could only grunt in response, his mouth still clamped tightly shut to keep any other noises from escaping.

"Oh, Erik… How are you even still alive?" Christine breathed sadly, her hand leaving his old stab wound to trace lightly across all of the other scars that decorated his chest and arms, as if trying to erase all of the pain that befell him years ago and replace it with gentle affection.

Erik felt tears welling in his eyes at her gesture, his lust fading away in the face of other, far stronger emotions. "My blood pressure has always been far lower than normal," he explained in response to her whispered question. He tried to ignore the fact that his voice still sounded thick with emotion. "No doctor has been able to identify the cause, but they claim that I am perfectly healthy, despite my sluggish blood flow, and that particular defect probably saved me from bleeding to death on many occasions in my youth, since someone always managed to patch me up before I lost too much blood."

_That explains why his skin always feels so cool, and why he's so pale, _Christine thought to herself. She briefly pondered whether poor blood circulation had anything to do with whatever deformity had afflicted his face. Although she would never bring it up to him, Erik's story had increased her curiosity over just what, exactly, lay behind his mask. For everyone he had met in his life to have reacted so strongly to it… How upsetting could his face really be? Christine had always pictured scars like that of a burn victim, but that didn't seem like it would be disturbing enough to incite the extreme reactions Erik had always endured… And he had called himself The Living Corpse. What did that mean, exactly?

Christine glanced up at Erik, studying the shape of his mask and trying to piece together in her mind what he might actually look like beneath it. She was distracted from her goal as she noticed his warm golden eyes slowly drifting closed. Christine's gentle caresses across Erik's body had lulled him into a dazed sense of contentment, and for once he didn't even attempt to fight slumber's inviting pull as he felt himself drifting out of consciousness.

Christine began to hum a lullaby under her breath, smiling warmly to herself when Erik fell asleep almost immediately in response.

"Let's hope your dreams are more peaceful than mine were earlier," she murmured jokingly to his sleeping form. It suddenly struck her how ironic it was that she once again found herself in bed with Erik.

_At least this time he's not trying to strangle me… Although… The first part of that dream really wasn't that bad… _Christine immediately halted that thought process before it could go any further. The man hadn't ever even been kissed before, and here she was thinking about climbing atop him and ravaging him. She would surely give him a heart-attack. _Best to start small for now_, Christine thought wryly. _Maybe one day…_

With a grin, she settled herself comfortably beside Erik and drifted off into a peaceful slumber.


	18. Chapter 18

**Guarded Hearts**

_All recognizable characters are the property of Gaston Leroux or Susan Kay._

A huge thank you to all of you wonderful readers for your patience and your incredible reviews. You guys make me happy. Enjoy the chapter! I'm sorry in advance for the lack of Erik-perspective after his pivotal moment in the previous chapter, but I promise I will make up for it in the chapters to come.

* * *

When Christine awoke, she was alone in her bed. It took her several moments to realize why that fact disappointed her. As a quick glance around the room revealed that Erik was no where in sight, she felt apprehension begin to gnaw at her gut.

To say that the previous night had been emotionally intense would be an understatement, and Christine worried about how Erik would react now that he was over the shock of all that had passed between them. She remembered what he had been like when they'd first met, and she had absolutely no desire to encounter that cold, unfeeling persona again. Unfortunately, she knew from experience that Erik's default method for handling emotional situations was to withdraw into himself completely. _Sort of like a turtle retreating into its shell when it feels threatened_, Christine thought with a wry twist to her lips.

Her amusement at that errant thought faded, though, as she considered how strained things would be between them if that was truly the case. Reliving and sharing his very painful past with her could not have been easy, and now she was worried that he might lash out in order to compensate for being so vulnerable in front of her, or at the very least pull another Mr. Freeze act.

A bright flash of blue in Christine's peripheral vision suddenly caught her attention. Curiously, she reached up to pull the post-it note off her cheek, feeling a grin break out on her face as she read the simple '_Thank you.' _scrawled across it in Erik's spidery hand.

Then again, he might handle everything just fine.

Feeling uplifted by this revelation, Christine hopped quickly out of bed. She started walking towards the door, but stopped when she noticed that Erik had laid out one of his shirts for her. He certainly was a thoughtful little killer, wasn't he? Christine quickly pushed that thought aside, appalled at her inappropriate sense of humor for making a joke out of something so horrible that had been forced upon Erik.

Redirecting her train of thought, Christine focused her attention back on the shirt. It was a long-sleeved button down made of soft, black cotton. When she put it on, the sleeves came down past her fingertips, and the bottom of the shirt hung to the middle of her thighs, leaving her significantly more covered than when she had only been wearing the nightgown. The shirt was warm and soft, and it smelled strongly of Erik (a mixture of laundry detergent, leather, and a sharp, clean, almost metallic scent that always reminded Christine of the air during a thunderstorm).

Trying desperately to ignore the warm glow that spread through her as she hugged the shirt closer to her body, Christine ventured out of the bedroom in search of her bodyguard and her best friend. She was surprised to find them both in the kitchen, sitting across the table from each other and chatting amicably. Well, Meg was chatting amicably. Erik was simply listening to her with a bemused expression on his face.

He glanced up as soon as Christine rounded the corner, giving her a secretive smirk that morphed into a shy smile as soon as he took in the sight of her wearing his shirt. Christine winked at him in response and pretended not to notice when that resulted in a blush spreading across the visible part of Erik's face. Sometimes he made it too easy...

"So, you started the party without me, I see," she commented nonchalantly, plopping herself down in a chair beside Erik. Ayesha left her place beside Erik's leg for a moment to greet Christine, who reached down to pet her affectionately in response.

"Well we certainly weren't going to wait on you, Chris. Some of us don't enjoy sleeping in till noon on the weekends."

"I'll have you know, Megan Giry, that it is currently 11:16 in the morning, and that is a perfectly respectable hour to be waking!"

"You are doing better than usual, for a Sunday. You even managed to make it out before your breakfast got completely cold," Erik declared, pushing a plate of blueberry pancakes in front of her.

"Isn't it sweet how he takes care of me?" Christine joked to Meg. She had intended to simply inspire another blush from Erik, taking a slightly malicious pleasure in ruffling her unflappable bodyguard's composure, but she immediately regretted her statement as she saw the flash of pain in Meg's eyes.

_Damnit... _With everything that had occurred between herself and Erik the night before, Christine had almost forgotten the reason Meg was at her apartment in the first place.

Meg seemed to notice the guilt that overtook Christine at her unconscious reaction, and shook her head slightly, giving her a look that told her not to worry about it. Erik watched their silent interaction curiously, rather impressed with their ability to communicate so effectively without speaking.

"So, what have you two been chatting about out here?" Christine asked in an attempt to change the subject.

"Swapping stories about you, mostly," was Erik's suspiciously innocent reply.

"I told him about the buffalo incident at Yellowstone," Meg added with a cruel smirk.

Christine narrowed her eyes menacingly. "You didn't."

"What on Earth inspired you to wear a bright red shirt to a wildlife preserve?" Erik asked, confirming Meg's declaration as truth.

"Ugh! It's not like I was flapping my arms around yelling '_Toro!_' or anything!"

Erik had to move his coffee cup away to keep it from being knocked over as Christine waved her arms emphatically in demonstration.

"Besides, that cliché is only supposed to be about bulls! How the hell was I supposed to know that it apparently holds true for all testosterone-filled quadrupeds?"

Meg had already dissolved into giggles at this point, but Erik managed to retain his composure enough to ask exactly how painful the incident had been.

"If you must know," Christine responded primly, trying to retain what little dignity she had left, "I had to sit on a cushion for two weeks."

At that, Erik finally gave in and joined Meg in her hysterical laughter.

Christine leveled an icy glare at him. "You're just lucky you made blueberry pancakes this morning. Otherwise, you'd already be dead." She then proceeded to enthusiastically attack the pancakes in order to back up her statement.

"Nothing to earn Chris's affections like the promise of sugary foods," Meg teased, taking a much more subdued bite out of her own pancakes.

"Hey, watch it, Missy! I haven't forgotten you were the one who told him the story in the first place. Which really wasn't smart of you, by the way, considering how much blackmail I've got on your sorry butt." Christine pointed a forkful of pancake menacingly at the brunette, but pulled it back quickly as it started to drip syrup onto the table. "Especially considering that I wasn't the only one who had trouble with the wildlife on that trip, as I recall."

Meg's eyes widened in comprehension. "Christine Bellarose Daaé, don't you dare..."

"Well, if we're swapping stories, it seems only fair." Christine fluttered her eyelashes at her innocently before directing her attention to Erik. "So we went to a rodeo at one of the local ranches up there, and after the show we hung around and Meg managed to flirt with some of the cowboys until they volunteered to take us out with them to herd cattle."

"Yeah, like I was the only one flirting..." Meg interjected caustically.

Christine gave her a dirty look, thereby missing the flash of irritation on Erik's face before he managed to school it away.

"Anyway, I had never ridden a horse before, so one of the men offered to let me ride double with him."

This time Erik managed to keep his expression neutral, but Meg noticed his fists clench together before he drew his hands under the table to hide them, and she carefully filed that information away for future consideration.

"Meg, however, had apparently had a few lessons when she was younger, so she elected to ride on her own."

"Something tells me this was a bad decision," Erik interrupted dryly.

Christine gave him a wicked grin in response, but continued in her narrative as if he hadn't spoken. "Being confined to the back of someone else's horse, I'm just along for the ride, but Annie Oakley over here is taking an active role in the herding. So when one of the calves starts lagging behind the others, Meg reaches over and gives him a little tap with her reins to try and hurry him along. It couldn't have hurt the little guy, but apparently his mother did not approve of her actions, regardless."

Meg hung her head and muttered something about demon-possessed livestock.

"So I'm in the middle of a conversation with some of the ranchers, and all the sudden we hear the calf's mother let out this furious bellow/roar/trumpet noise... I don't even know how to describe what it sounded like... Anyway, I look over and see Meg's horse galloping off at full speed, Meg hanging on for dear life, with the cow hot at their heels. The horse jumped two fences and a creek and still couldn't lose the heifer. Forget a woman scorned... Hell hath no fury like a mother threatened, apparently. Eventually we lost sight of them all, and when we finally found Meg about twenty minutes later, she had taken shelter in the top of a tree, and the horse and cow were grazing peacefully in the field beneath her."

"I hate you," Meg announced emphatically to Christine, barely being heard over the deep, warm tones of Erik's laughter.

"Payback's a bitch, hun."

Meg stuck her tongue out at her in response before turning to a still-chuckling Erik. "How about you, Erik? Any embarrassing stories from your past you care to share with us?"

Erik's face suddenly went carefully blank, but Christine still noticed the muscles in his shoulders tensing. After hearing Erik's entire back-story the night before, she now fully understood why he reacted the way he did whenever anything personal about himself was brought up.

"As a matter of fact, he does!" Christine responded for him, ignoring the murderous look Erik sent her way. "As a child, his biggest dream in life was to become the front-man for Duran Duran!"

Erik's golden eyes widened in shock.

"Oh come on, V. Don't look so surprised that I figured it out! You do a fabulous rendition of Hungry Like the Wolf."

Erik could only give her a baffled look while Meg giggled obliviously across from him. When Christine had first spoken, Erik's suspicious nature had been completely convinced that she was going to share some of the humiliating tales of his childhood. Instead, she had saved him from having to respond to Meg's question. Once again, Erik found himself struck by the realization of how lucky he was to have this incredible woman in his life. Even if she was accusing him of liking Duran Duran.

"Oh! I know another one!" Meg announced excitedly, apparently having latched onto the game. "At your senior prom, you dressed up like Michael Jackson. Fedora and white sparkly glove and everything. And when you tried to Moonwalk during one of the dances, you accidentally knocked into a table and spilled an entire bowl of punch onto your date's really expensive dress."

"Also, the scene in The Breakfast Club where Brian confesses to bringing a flare-gun to school makes you cry," Christine added without missing a beat.

"And you went through a big Miami Vice phase where the only colors you wore were pastel blue and pink."

Erik, who was fighting back laughter at the girls' antics, finally managed to get a word in. "You know, just because I grew up during the eighties does not mean that I was victim to every single cliché of the decade."

"Don't even try to deny it, Erik. We can see the guilt written plainly across your features," Meg declared solemnly.

"You do realize that I turned thirteen in 1990, right? If anything, I am a child of the 90's."

"Oh, well in _that _case..." Christine began, rubbing her hands together gleefully.

Erik hung his head. "Yep, walked right into this one..."

"You once danced the Macarena non-stop throughout the entire song."

"You have owned more than five Furbies during your life, and you taught two of them to speak English."

"You know all the words to Mm Bop."

"Enough, enough! I surrender! Please, have mercy..." Erik declared jokingly, holding his hands up in supplication. The humor in his voice did not reach his eyes, though, as he fought down a wave of bitterness that hit him at the reminder of what his childhood should have been like... What it would have been like, had he not been born with the face of a corpse. All of these cultural references of toys and bands and movies, and Meg talking about his senior prom... These were all memories he should have had from his childhood, but instead he had flung dishes and hateful words, cold metal cages and cruel whips, and lifeless eyes staring blankly up at him...

Erik suddenly felt a warm hand link with his and squeeze it comfortingly. He glanced up in surprise to see Christine's bright blue eyes peering at him, and quickly pushed away the darkness that was enveloping his mind in response to his recollections. None of that mattered now. Not when he had found someone who had given him more pleasant memories within a matter of months than he had acquired during the previous thirty-four years of his life.

"Well, as fun as this has been, we should probably give the poor man a break, now," Christine declared suddenly to Meg. "I'm gonna go change. Want to come on back and grab some clothes for today?"

"Absolutely! And while we're raiding your closet, I do believe there is the matter of a denim jacket that was promised to me quite a while ago..."

"Drat! I was hoping you'd forgotten about that."

"Oh, Christine, you know I never forget about fashion," Meg chided as the women made their way down the hall and into Christine's bedroom. "So, that's Erik," Meg declared abruptly as soon as the door was shut.

"The one and only," Christine confirmed with a smile. "What do you think?"

"I think you weren't exaggerating at all, as I had originally believed."

"Oh, Erik needs no embellishments."

"He's very witty," Meg continued, slipping out of the pajama bottoms she had borrowed.

Christine grinned to herself as she began to dig through the jumbled mass of clothes inside her closet. "That he is... A bit too witty, if you ask me. The man has a barbed tongue, and he can be positively ruthless with it!"

"Yeah, but at least he can keep up. Too many men are reduced to just staring like mindless zombies when the two of us get going on something."

"That is true. Sometimes our brilliance can be too much for people to handle, but Erik's pretty hard to stump. How about these?" Christine asked, holding up a pair of gray sweat pants for Meg's approval.

"Why the sweats? I know you have several pairs of jeans that fit me," the blonde countered

Christine gave her a searching look, gnawing slightly on her bottom lip.

Meg raised an eyebrow at her reaction. "What?"

"Well... It's just... I thought you might prefer the sweats. When I'm feeling kind of crappy about something I usually like to dress in sweat pants and a baggy t-shirt and just kind of hole up..."

"Chris, no," Meg declared firmly. "I am not going to dress all frumpy and sit around and wallow in my misery."

"No one said anything about wallowing in misery! I just thought a little bit of mourning might be in order... I promise no one would think any less of you, Meg, and it might make you feel a little better," Christine gently coaxed.

She was met with Meg's unflinching green gaze.

"Oh, fine..." With a sigh, she tossed a pair of jeans at her stubborn friend. "So, since you refuse to actually acknowledge any of the negative emotions you are currently experiencing-"

"A trait which, if you'll care to remember, I learned from you," Meg interrupted archly.

"-what do you want to do today?" Christine finished, studiously ignoring Meg's interjection.

"How about a movie marathon to make up for the numerous Movie Nights we've missed ever since you abruptly canceled them?"

Christine cringed slightly at the accusatory note in her voice. "Have I mentioned I'm sorry about that, by the way? It's just... Erik's been a bit of a recluse his whole life, and, as you stated earlier, we can be kind of overwhelming to people when we get together... I just thought that it would be a good idea to get him acclimated to spending time with _one_ eccentric, opinionated, overbearing and extremely talkative woman before we threw another in for him to deal with."

"Yes, that was probably wise," Meg agreed with a giggle as she changed into the tightly-fitting black t-shirt with a multicolored, rhinestone butterfly on the front that Christine tossed to her. "What's it like, anyway? The whole bodyguard thing, I mean. I know you were less than thrilled with the idea when your father insisted upon it a few months ago."

"Honestly, I love it. Erik is nothing like what I was expecting."

"Were you picturing the cliché, big, burly meat-head who stands around silently with his arms crossed and glares at everyone in his path?"

"That is _exactly _what I was picturing, actually!" Christine agreed with a grin. "And instead I get Erik... And he is smart, and funny, and _fascinating_, and, well, scary as hell most of the time, but still incredibly considerate. He cooks me breakfast every day, and at least once a week he makes me dinner, and he helps me study for tests and keeps my stuff organized for me-"

"And loans you his clothing?" Meg asked with a smirk, nodding her head at the shirt Christine was still wearing.

Christine blushed and immediately reached up to start unbuttoning it. "This is actually a first. He just loaned me this because I hadn't thought to grab any pajamas out of my room before you crashed, and I didn't want to disturb you. So my only other option was... Well..." Christine dropped the shirt from her shoulders and gestured down to the revealing nightgown she was still wearing.

"Ooh la la! _Finally_ my present sees some use! How did Erik react when he saw you in it?" Meg asked eagerly, a wicked smirk on her face.

Christine shrugged and shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to bring up the fight between her and Erik that had undoubtedly kept Erik's focus on anything but what she had been wearing at the time. "To be honest, Erik doesn't seem to react to me like that..."

"Oh, please, Chris. I find that hard to believe."

"And just what are you implying with that, Ms. Giry?"

"Just that you are a natural flirt by nature, and you're certainly not repulsive to look at, and you two live in rather close quarters here... You're telling me the two of you haven't flirted at all?"

Christine felt another blush spread across her face, but when she spoke she tried to keep her voice nonchalant. "I don't know... I mean, I suppose I've flirted a bit. And sometimes when we're joking around it _seems_ like he's responding in kind... But Erik's pretty hard to read most of the time."

"Well... What exactly are you hoping to read from him?" Meg asked contemplatively.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... Are you interested in him at all?"

"Meg!" Christine exclaimed, tripping slightly as she tried to put on her blue jeans.

"What?" Meg defended. "It's not such a ridiculous question! After all, I just heard you gush about how smart and funny and considerate the man is... And, I mean, comic-book-villain mask aside, he really isn't all that bad to look at..."

"It's not as simple as all that," Christine admitted with a sigh, collapsing onto her bed. "For one thing, we live together, so that automatically complicates things... Plus, Erik had a pretty troubled childhood, and he's not had much experience with women-" _or any experience with women_, "—so that leads me to think that when he does actually get involved in a relationship with someone, it's going to be really serious and important to him... And, well..."

"You, the queen of all things fickle, airy, and lighthearted, do not handle serious or important relationship matters well at all?" Meg finished knowingly.

"Exactly. Plus, Erik has never before expressed any interest in me in that regard, and I consider him to be a very good friend and nothing more, so really none of that matters, anyway."

Meg raised an eyebrow, looking thoroughly unconvinced. Christine challenged her look with a glare, although it wasn't really surprising that her arguments didn't convince Meg, considering they weren't even having much luck convincing herself. Shaking her head to rid herself of any borderline-romantic thoughts of Erik, Christine quickly slipped out of her nightgown and pulled on a t-shirt portraying the character Animal from The Muppets banging manically on a drum kit and leaning towards the crash cymbal with his mouth wide open, the caption below him reading _Eat Drums_ in bold red letters.

Meg snorted as she surveyed her fashion choice. "How old are you, again?"

"Eight," Christine deadpanned. "Now c'mon, let's go back out there before Erik realizes we've been in here gossiping about him."

* * *

"Really? 'I dig music'? Those are terrible last words!" Meg exclaimed, wrinkling her nose.

Christine shrugged. "Better than 'I'm on drugs'."

"Hmm... True enough. They're both pretty awful, though."

"To be fair, the man is on acid. His capacity for wit is obviously a bit diminished," Erik interjected.

"And his judgment, hopefully. Jump! Jump! Jump!"

"I thought you'd seen this movie before," Erik stated inquisitively, turning his head back to glance at Christine.

"Oh, I have. About twenty times."

"Then why are you chanting encouragement to the characters when you already know what the outcome will be?"

"Because it's fun!" Meg answered for her.

The three of them were sprawled comfortably in the living room, with Christine and Meg on the couch and Erik in his usual place on the floor in front of Christine, although she had ceased her customary habit of playing with his hair several movies ago when the giant bowl of popcorn and other assorted junk foods had distracted her from it.

The day had been spent quite pleasantly watching movies and eating popcorn, with Meg and Christine keeping a running commentary during the movies, Erik interjecting every now and then with his own contributions. Despite the light-hearted air, though, Meg's carefree act wasn't fooling anyone, especially considering the number of times a romantic scene between two characters had made her have to viciously fight back her tears. Because of this, Christine had tried to steer the movie selection towards violence and humor, but Meg seemed determined to pretend that everything was fine and insisted that they not edit out movies with a good love story for her sake. Thus how they came to be watching Almost Famous.

"Ooh! Ooh! This is my favorite scene in the whole movie!" Christine exclaimed with childish excitement, singing along rather obnoxiously loudly, but still with a very pleasing tone, with Tiny Dancer as soon as the lyrics started in.

Erik turned to watch her while she sang, considering (not for the first time) how incredible it would be to sing a duet with her. He quickly pushed the thought out of his mind, though, knowing that it would be a very bad idea. For so long, he had been cut off from society, and music had been his only outlet for emotions, so much so that it now possessed great control over them. Christine already wreaked havoc with his thoughts and feelings on a regular basis, so interacting with her with the added influence of music to eat away at his self-control could have disastrous results.

"You know, I've always secretly wanted to get in a fight with a group of people, just so we could all make up by singing Elton John to each other like they do in this scene," Meg declared over Christine's enthusiastic performance.

Christine and Erik were kept from responding to her as a sudden, frantic knocking on their door interrupted them. Christine paused the movie, glancing curiously at Erik as he rose gracefully and answered the door.

He was met with the sight of an extremely agitated, flustered red-head whom he recognized after a moment as the source of Meg's grief the previous night. Once he had identified the man in front of him, Erik let his features settle into a menacingly blank look and narrowed cold yellow eyes at him.

Daniel shrank back, his face paling slightly, but when he spoke his voice came out completely steady. "Is Meg here?"

Erik raised a disdainful eyebrow at the man, the action shifting the expression in his eyes slightly to convey his expression despite the fact that his actual brow was concealed by the mask.

"Please," he said, though his tone of voice made it seem more a command than a plea. "I need to talk to her."

"Oh?" Erik asked, his voice dangerously quiet.

Daniel shuddered slightly in response, his face losing even more of its color.

"Surely you cannot have anything truly pressing to say to her. Otherwise you would have said it last night, right? Perhaps while your family was tearing her to pieces?"

Daniel swallowed heavily, but, to his credit, squared his shoulders and met Erik's gaze for a full ten seconds before dropping his eyes down to his jaw. "Look, mate, I get why you're doing this, but frankly it's none of your business. And I desperately need to talk to Meg right now, so will you please let me through?"

Erik growled low in his throat, causing Daniel to step back defensively. "Meg has nothing to say to you, you spineless, wea-"

"Erik, it's okay," Meg interrupted, appearing beside him and placing a calming hand on his shoulder. Erik jerked back instinctively from her touch, which caused a startled Meg to mimic his action. Recovering after a moment and making a mental note to ask Christine exactly _how_ much experience with women Erik had actually had, Meg turned to survey Daniel with forced iciness and disdain that she desperately hoped looked convincing to everyone around her. "I'll hear what he has to say."

Christine hopped up from the couch quickly, looping an arm around Erik's waist and guiding him gently out of the room. She had to remind herself how incredibly immature and inappropriate it was to be secretly smug by the fact that Erik accepted her touch calmly after having just jumped away from Meg's.

When they had both retreated from the room, Meg turned back to glare at Daniel.

"Meg, I am _so_ sorry for the way my family treated you last night," Daniel declared fervently, without waiting for her invitation to speak. "There aren't enough words to describe how wretched I feel. And I swear to you, I didn't mean to just sit there like an arse and let them go at you like that! I love you more than anything, and I would defend you to the ends of the Earth, Megan Giry!"

Meg bit down viciously on her lower lip to keep it from trembling, trying desperately not to let Daniel's fierce declaration of devotion affect her. "So why did you let them attack me, then?" she asked, her voice coming out far too wobbly for her liking.

"I was just so stunned by how they were acting that I couldn't even think, let alone speak! I swear, love, my parents have _never _acted like that before! They're the kindest people I know!"

"Oh yeah? Because they were just _darling_ when they were calling me a worthless tramp," Meg stated acerbically.

"I know they were awful, babe, but I swear that the only reason they went after you so viciously is because you scared them."

Meg let out a choked sound that was half scoff, half sob. "I'm sorry... I _what_?"

Daniel sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration; an action which, judging by the state of his disheveled red mane, had been repeated many times that day. "When I moved down here from Ireland to go to school, my family never even questioned the fact that I would move back home once I graduated. It was always a given... But then, they come down and see me with this unbelievably beautiful woman, and they see how happy she makes me..."

"So because I make you happy they decide to rip my confidence to pieces and drive me away from you? Why, Daniel? That doesn't make any sense!" By this point, silent tears were streaming down Meg's cheeks, and she gave up on trying to fight them back.

"They freaked out, Meg! They saw how serious we were and suddenly the matter of me moving home wasn't so black-and-white! Not when I have someone like you to keep me here... And then when I picked them up from the airport, I showed them this..." Slowly, Daniel pulled a small, black velvet box out of his pocket, opening it up with trembling hands to reveal a smooth gold band with a sparkling, princess-cut diamond set in the middle of it.

Meg brought her hands up to her mouth to try and stifle her gasp, staring at Daniel in disbelief as he slipped down to one knee in front of her.

"Meg Giry... Will you marry me?"

* * *

Aaaaand... What do you think? Should Meg forgive him? I actually have two paths in mind for this story to take now, so feel free to chime in with your opinions as to what her answer should be, and I will gladly take public opinion into consideration when I make my final decision.


	19. Chapter 19

**Guarded Hearts**

_All recognizable characters are property of Gaston Leroux or Susan Kay._

So, I would give an apology for my dreadful delay in updating, but I feel like that would just make me seem like a broken record. So… Enjoy?

ECECECECECECECECECECECEC

Meg stared in shock at the glittering diamond presented before her. The proposal was so unexpected that she could barely even force her mind to comprehend his words, let alone form a response to them.

Daniel waited with baited breath, staring at her with his heart in his eyes as she continued to stay silent long past the appropriate response time. When the waiting finally became too unbearable, he drew a shuddery breath and spoke.

"Meg? Say something—anything- please…"

At his desperate plea, Meg finally managed to wrench her eyes away from the ring and meet his nervous gaze. "Are you insane?"

Daniel flinched back, clearly not having expected that particular reaction. He opened his mouth to respond, but Meg cut him off before he could form a word.

"_Now_? You want to propose to me _now_, the day after your parents made me feel like scum while you just sat there and did _nothing_?"

Daniel opened and closed his mouth several times, floundering for something to say, before he finally managed to form a reply. "Meg, please… If anyone should feel like scum about last night, it should be me. I know I was a worthless bastard while my parents went after you, but _please _believe me when I say that it's not because I'm afraid to stand up to them, and it's _certainly_ not 'cause I don't think you're worth defending! God, Meg, you're the most amazing woman I know, and I'll fight anyone who tries to tell me otherwise. But what happened last night was _so_ completely out of character for my parents that I… I just couldn't process it."

Daniel finally lowered the ring box back into his lap, though he remained kneeling at Meg's feet.

"It was like I was watching some really awful movie or something. Like, it never even occurred to me to try and intervene because it didn't click with me that it was really happening." He hung his head and grimaced in self-loathing. "I really am worthless. _You_ never would have sat by and let someone say those things to me, even if you were completely stunned by who was saying them… I've always known you were too good for me; last night just kind of proved it. But God help me, even though I know I don't deserve you, I'm not givin' you up without a fight."

By this point, silent tears were once again streaming down Meg's face.

"And I know this doesn't count for anything, because it was way too late for me to have fixed everything, but after you left I let my parents have it for everything they said to you, and I told them how incredible you are and how much I love you, and… Basically everything else I should have said while you were still standing there… And that's when they told me the real reason why they were so vicious to you."

Daniel's face showed that even though he was explaining his parents' actions, he obviously had not forgiven them.

"They feel terrible about how they treated you, and they want to apologize to you in person if you'd be willing to meet with them. But I would completely understand if you don't ever want to see them again… Hell, I'd understand if you never want to see _me_ again after last night. But I can't… I _won't-_-"

"Daniel, stop," Meg ordered quietly, halting his frantic speech. "I just can't deal with all this right now… Not after tonight. I mean, how am I supposed to consider marrying someone when their parents just got done telling me I'm basically a good-for-nothing whore? It doesn't matter _why _they said it, the words still stung like a bitch!"

Daniel opened his mouth as if to interrupt, but Meg held a hand up imperiously to stop him.

"And yeah, going back to the reason why your parents attacked me… I never even knew that you were planning to move back to Ireland once you graduated! Jeez, Danny, don't you think that's something you should have maybe discussed with me? _Especially_ before you asked me to marry you!"

"I didn't think that it mattered," Daniel defended matter-of-factly.

Meg glared at him incredulously and threw her hands into the air. "How the hell could you _possibly _think that didn't matter?"

"Because I had only planned on moving back to Ireland until I met you. Now I don't give a damn where I live, so long as it's with you. I'll follow you anywhere, Meg," Daniel declared firmly, his eyes shining with the truth of his statement.

Meg sucked in a surprised gasp of air and placed a hand over her heart, as if to still its sudden frantic beating. "Daniel…" she whispered, though whether it was an admonition or a plea, she wasn't sure.

"Marry me."

ECECECECECECECEC

"Are you attempting to pass through solid matter, _ange_, or have you simply decided to nap in an extremely awkward position?" Erik asked with wry amusement from his perch on the piano bench.

"Hush, you," Christine responded dismissively, waving a hand to silence him without moving her head away from the door it was pressed firmly against. "I'm trying to eavesdrop, over here."

It wasn't until after she had responded that Christine's brain managed to process the fact that he had called her '_ange_'. She felt a warm grin trying to spread across her face as she used her rudimentary knowledge of French to translate the meaning of Erik's endearment.

"You know," Erik began, thoughtlessly plinking out a melody on the piano with one hand as he studied Christine. "I'm sure Meg will be more than willing to fill you in with the details of their interaction once they're finished. Why don't you just wait for her to relay that information, and save yourself the risk of getting a splinter imbedded in your temporal lobe?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right…" Christine agreed reluctantly. She pulled away from the door, studiously ignoring Erik's crack about how eagerly she had pressed her ear against the wooden door, and collapsed into the armchair in front of Erik. "I just hope she's okay in there."

"I'm sure she's fine," Erik replied gently. "Were you not the one assuring me just last night that she was 'tough as nails'?"

Christine simply nodded slightly, releasing a sigh and giving Erik a half-hearted smile of gratitude for his attempt to soothe her, before lapsing into a thoughtful silence.

Erik continued to play the piano absent-mindedly in order to fill the silence, but all of his attention was focused on the petite blonde angel sitting a few feet away from him. Although he was trying to keep up a façade of nonchalance and normalcy for Christine's sake, truthfully he was still reeling from the events of the previous night and following morning.

Erik felt warmth rush through him as he reflected on how it had felt to awaken with Christine cradled in his arms, her face nuzzled into his shoulder and her breath ghosting sweetly over his bare chest. He had thought he might die from happiness. He would have been perfectly content to lie in bed with her indefinitely, reveling in this experience he never thought he would be allowed in his cursed life, but at some point Christine had grown rather restless in her sleep. As her body began to shift against Erik's, he had deemed it necessary to flee, lest she awaken and feel the obvious evidence of how strongly she affected him.

Laying the shirt out for her to wear had been an after-thought, and one he had chided himself for having, as he had been quite sure that she would simply venture back into her bedroom to get properly dressed once she woke up. To his surprise, though, Christine had happily complied with his secret hope and strolled into the kitchen in his favorite button down. The sight of Christine dressed in his clothing, and the knowledge that she had just woken up from hisbed, where she had spent the night curled up against him, had sent such a fierce surge of possessive pride through Erik that he was struck with an animalistic urge to roar or howl or scream or _something_ to announce to the world that Christine was _his_.

Erik glanced up in surprise as the subject of his musings suddenly plopped herself onto the piano bench beside him. He raised an eyebrow at her curiously, but Christine simply smiled and started to play a simple, repetitive series of chords to underlie the melody Erik was absently creating.

"Are you okay, by the way?" Christine asked, looking sidelong at her bodyguard as she continued to improvise an accompaniment to his music. "Last night was kind of… eventful, and we haven't really had a chance to talk about it. I still feel terrible about forcing you to go into all of that. If I'd had any clue as to the extent-"

"I'm fine, Christine," Erik interrupted softly, giving her a slight smile. "Better than I was, actually, now that I have everything off my chest. The guilt of concealing my past was starting to weigh heavily on me the more I came to know you."

"Why's that?"

Erik swallowed nervously and stared at the piano keys he was pressing to avoid meeting her eyes. "Well, it's one thing to hide the details of my past from clients to whom I am nothing but a bodyguard, but with you it's different. That is… It seems like we have formed a… a friendship, of sorts…" Erik glanced up nervously, part of him expecting to be reprimanded for being so presumptuous as to claim her as a friend.

To his relief and delight, though, Christine simply shot him a playful grin. "More than 'of sorts', I should hope!" she exclaimed with false affront, bumping his shoulder playfully and causing him to fumble a few notes on the piano. Erik shot her a mock glare for her disruption, though truthfully her reaction had made him almost giddy.

"Are _you _alright, though?" Erik asked after a few minutes where they remained silent, both focused on the song they were improvising together.

Christine glanced up in confusion. "Of course I am! I'm always alright. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you just found out that the man you've hired to guard you used to work as an assassin. Some people, believe it or not, might actually find that to be a bit upsetting. Also, there is the _slight_ matter that you were held at knife-point by two strange men the night before last… Or had you forgotten?" Erik teased.

Christine's very mature response was to stick her tongue out and shoulder-bump him again. "No, I haven't forgotten, thank you very much. I just feel very safe in the knowledge that my Phantom will protect me," Christine replied cheekily.

Erik stared at her in surprise, his heart stuttering slightly at the possessive lilt to her voice when she referred to him as hers. _Oh, Christine, if only you knew… _he thought wistfully, but he kept this thought to himself and instead replied with an arching of a concealed eyebrow. "Ah, but who will protect you from your Phantom?" Erik asked, pitching his voice lower and adding a slight growl to it in a manner that he knew from years of experience could intimidate even the most dangerous of criminals.

Even though Erik had meant to use his voice in a frightening manner, his subconscious apparently had other ideas, and to Christine it seemed to threaten not harm, but delightfully wicked things that sent a shiver through her just to think about. Well, if he wanted to play _that _game, she would be more than happy to oblige.

"What's the matter, V? Disappointed that I don't tremble in fear at the sight of you, now that I know your past?" Christine asked with a flirtatious smirk, her eyes still slightly hooded from the effect of Erik's voice.

Suddenly, before Christine could even register his movement, Erik had jumped up and kicked the piano bench away from them. Instead of tumbling to the floor as she expected to do, she instead found herself pressed flush against Erik's body, one of his arms looped around her back keeping her firmly in place and the other brandishing a dagger in front of her face.

Oddly enough, the sight of Erik threatening her caused Christine to realize just how confident she was that he would never harm her. She immediately disregarded the knife in favor of focusing on the feel of being held tight against Erik's hard, unyielding body. She felt another shiver go through her as she finally met his smoldering golden gaze.

"You're trembling," Erik whispered, leaning in so his lips barely brushed her ear as he spoke, his actions invoking yet another tremor to wrack her frame.

"Who says it's from fear?" Christine replied boldly, locking eyes with her bodyguard and not even trying to hide the way her body was reacting to his proximity.

Erik stared at her in complete shock, the dagger falling to the floor with a thud as his fingers fell slack.

Christine pressed herself even more firmly against him, her head tilted up slightly as if in invitation. Erik found his gaze magnetically drawn to her mouth, his self-control waging a losing battle with his urgent need to lean forward and claim her lips with his own, before a sudden knocking on the door caused him to rip away from her as if he were burned.

Christine had to stumble slightly to keep her balance without Erik there to support her, and she sent a slightly dazed look around the room to find Erik in the opposite corner from her, as far away as he could get.

Erik refused to meet her eyes for fear that she would see the desire burning in his own, his gaze scorching into the floor while he tried to steady his erratic heartbeat and get his emotions under control. _Oh, merde… What did I just do_? Erik thought despairingly. _This woman is driving me mad!_ he decided, for what else could explain why he had impulsively decided to pull a knife on the woman he was supposed to be protecting, just two nights after she faced a similar threat at the hands of two criminals? Though their exchange had started innocently enough, Christine's sultry voice when she teased him about not being afraid had drawn out his darker side, and he had pulled the stunt with the knife out of a twisted desire to show her how frightening he could truly be. When she had trembled in his grasp, Erik's gentler side was saddened and disgusted with himself at the evidence that the woman he so desperately loved really was afraid of him, whereas the darker side, which still seemed to be in the forefront of his mind, was darkly satisfied by it.

Both of his opposing personalities had been shocked and deeply aroused by Christine's unexpected response, though, and it had been all Erik could do not to ravage her then and there. He still could barely wrap his mind around what had just passed between them, and he found himself studying Christine intently, trying to decipher how she was reacting to their encounter.

_Oh, no… No, no, no… This is not good. I just practically tried to seduce Erik… What the hell was I _thinking? Christine thought frantically as her normal brain functions were able to start up again without Erik's distracting proximity to her body. Thinking quickly, she forced herself to laugh lightly and shoot Erik her usual playful, smug grin, trying to pass her previous actions off as all being part of their typical banter. She hoped desperately that he didn't notice how her knees were shaking.

Erik felt his heart turn to lead and plummet in his chest. _It was all a game to her, then_, he thought bitterly, biting back a growl. He should have known… How utterly delusional did he have to be to imagine, even for a second, that Christine had truly been trembling in desire as he held her in his arms?

"Chris? You there?" Meg's voice called from the hallway, interrupting Erik and Christine from their thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm here," Christine replied shakily, ripping her eyes away from Erik's inscrutable gaze. "C'mon in."

Meg burst into the room instantly, stopping directly in front of Christine and placing a small velvet box into her hands wordlessly. Luckily, the sight of the diamond ring encased in the box was enough to distract Christine from her panic.

"Why, Meg! I thought you'd never ask!" she exclaimed happily, reflexively resorting to humor as she always seemed to do when upset or surprised. When Meg's response was to glare at her in a silent 'now is hardly the time,' Christine managed to sort her thoughts enough to give a serious response.

"Oh my God, Meg! He _proposed_? Talk about a good way to end a fight!" she cried, bringing the ring up for closer scrutiny, her eyes dancing with delight, before suddenly dropping it down and jerking her gaze up to meet Meg's. "Wait… The fight! What happened? Please tell me he explained himself and gave some damn good excuses before he showed you this thing!"

Meg shrugged lightly, her expression unreadable. "He told me that his parents are the sweetest people he knows, and that the reason he didn't step up to defend me from them is that he was so shocked by what was happening that his pathetic little brain couldn't process everything in time for him to react. And he says that the only reason his parents attacked me in the first place is because they got scared that he loved me so much that I would keep him from moving back home to Ireland after college. When he showed them the ring, they reacted the only way they could think of to the threat of essentially losing their child."

"Oh… Well, that still doesn't excuse what they did to you. They could have just talked to Danny about it if they were worried, instead of trying to force the two of you to split up!" she exclaimed. "Wait… Danny's planning on moving back to Ireland after he graduates? You never told me that!"

"That's because _he _never told _me_ that! And when I asked him why he'd never mentioned it before, he said it's because it stopped mattering after he met me. Because now he 'doesn't give a damn where he lives,' so long as it's with me. And then he asked me to marry him," Meg explained, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

Christine clasped a hand over her heart in a gesture almost identical to the one Meg had done when Daniel had originally made his proclamation. "Oh, wow… He's good."

She studied Meg carefully, frustrated to see that her dark-haired friend was still keeping all of her emotions carefully hidden away. "Well?" she finally prompted when she decided that Meg wasn't going to reveal anything of her own accord. "What did you say? Did you answer him?"

"I told him I'd have to think about it."

"…Okay… Well… Do you have any idea what you're going to do?"

Meg met Christine's eyes calmly for a few seconds, before suddenly breaking out into a radiant grin. "Well of _course _I'm going to say yes, you idiot! I've been madly in love with the man for three years! I'd be crazy to turn him down!"

Christine let out a girlish squeal and started to bounce up in down in her excitement. "Oh, Meg! This is amazing! I can't believe you're getting married!"

"I know!" Meg agreed, joining her in her giddy bouncing.

"But… What about everything that happened last night?" Christine asked, sobering suddenly. "I mean, I love Danny Boy to death, but you were _really_ upset…"

"Yeah, but one screw up in three years of dating seem like pretty good odds to me. We've never even had a real fight before this, and you know Danny. He's never been anything but wonderful to me. Besides, he seemed even more miserable about what happened last night than I was. It was impossible not to forgive him."

"Well if that's the case, why did you tell him you'd have to think about it?"

"Three reasons," Meg answered without pause. "One: as much as I love the man, he did screw up majorly last night. Thus, I have to let a certain amount of time pass before I forgive him and put him out of his misery. Just to insure that it never happens again."

"Oh, well, of course," Christine agreed easily.

"Two: I want to get things sorted with Danny's parents before I give him a definitive answer, just to make sure there are no more issues there. He swears that they feel terrible and want to apologize to me, but I need to be positive I'm not going to get caught up in a lot of drama between their family."

Christine nodded to show her approval of Meg's prudence, rather surprised by the level of caution and maturity being displayed by her usually impulsive friend.

"And three: when I accept, I want to be somewhere private so that we can immediately have lots of great celebratory sex, and I wasn't about to jump Danny in the middle of your living room."

_Ah, and there's the Meg I know and love_, Christine thought, laughing loudly and trying very hard not to think about how close she had come to doing just that to Erik within the confines of the library.

The two girls, still lost in fits of giddy laughter, both launched forward suddenly and enveloped each other in an enthusiastic embrace.

"Congratulations, Meg! This is fantastic!"

"I know!" Meg agreed ecstatically. She pulled back suddenly as she caught sight of the clock on the library's wall. "But I should probably go, now. Danny Boy's waiting out in the car to take me to see his parents so they can apologize for last night. And the sooner that happens, the sooner I can wear my gorgeous ring and have fabulous make-up/celebration sex!"

"Lucky girl," Christine stated enviously, her eyes straying against her will to the corner where Erik was standing.

"I'll call you later to tell you how everything goes, and to discuss wedding plans. You, of course, have the privilege of being my Maid of Honor, no matter how many hints my snotty cousin Cynthia's been dropping since I started dating Danny."

"If she has any issues with your decision, let her take them up with me. I'll gladly fight the woman for it! Or for anything, really. I still haven't forgotten the comment she made about my yellow dress at your twenty-first birthday party…"

Meg let out a laugh, rolling her eyes good naturedly and pulling Christine in for one last hug. "Thanks again for letting me stay here last night. I'll call you tomorrow with an update."

"You'd better, missy!" Christine threatened jokingly. "And tell Danny Boy that I'm still quite cross with him, but that he has excellent taste in jewelry. And in women."

Meg grinned and fluttered her eyelashes in response.

"Also, you may want to reassure him that Erik's not actually out for his blood. The man can be pretty damn scary when he wants to be, and Danny Boy looked a bit shaken by his not-so-warm welcome…"

"Where is that mysterious man of yours, anyway? I wanted to thank him for standing up for me like that, and for helping you cheer me up all day."

"No thanks are necessary, Mademoiselle Giry. The pleasure was all mine," Erik stated gently, melting out of the shadows and taking a step towards the two women.

Meg let out a squeak of surprise. "Jeez, Erik! You scared me! Have you been there the whole time?"

Erik merely smirked at her reaction and inclined his head slightly in response.

"Gah, you need to tie a bell around his neck or something," Meg remarked sidelong to Christine, only partially joking.

Christine stiffened slightly and cast a nervous glance to Erik, worried over how he might react to being compared to a pet, even indirectly, now that she knew of the years he had spent in a cage. Luckily, though, Erik's only apparent reaction to her statement was the widening of his smirk.

"I apologize for startling you, Mademoiselle."

"Call me Meg, and don't worry about it. No harm done," she said with a shrug. "Thanks again for everything, guys. I actually had a really good time today, despite the whole debacle with Danny's parents. And it was great to finally meet you, Erik. I'll see you both next week, now that movie nights have been officially reinstated. But make sure you take care of this one until then," she ordered, inclining her head towards Christine.

"You have my word," Erik stated somberly, his eyes trailing over Christine with an indefinable glint to them. He quickly turned his attention back to Meg and gave her an elegant bow. "Á bientôt , Megan. And congratulations on your engagement."

Meg flashed him a startled, but very pleased, grin and finally exited the apartment in search of her soon-to-be-fiancé.

"Well… That was unexpected," Christine declared jokingly.

Erik nodded without a word and brushed past her towards the door, not feeling capable of making conversation in his current mood. He was fully aware that he was not a normal man, and that no woman could ever desire him or treat him as such, but Christine made it so easy to forget, sometimes, and every reminder left him with a crushing feeling of bitterness.

Christine studied him guiltily, sensing that something was wrong due to his stony silence and guessing she was mostly to blame for it. She wanted to mend the situation, but knew that bringing it up to Erik directly would probably be a bad idea. Plus, she couldn't think of a valid way to excuse her actions without divulging some information that she was nowhere near ready to face, herself, much less explain to him.

Instead of approaching the problem directly, she therefore decided that it might help to just find a way to keep Erik in her company until the awkwardness between them passed. Something told her that leaving her pessimistic bodyguard to himself to dwell on whatever was bothering him would only make things worse.

"Um, Erik?" she called tentatively, sighing sadly when Erik's shoulders tightened in response.

"Yes?" was his wary reply.

Christine thought quickly and decided that music would be a good, plausible excuse to keep Erik in the room with her, and also one that he would have trouble resisting. "I was just wondering if you would mind helping me work through some of Carmen today?" she asked hopefully. "Even if I am stuck as Carlotta's understudy, I'd still like to show that conceited bitch up, if I can. And the week you helped me with my audition piece, I felt like I sang better than I ever have before. You explain things so much better than any of the vocal teachers at school."

Erik was torn, part of him pleased with her praise and eager to listen to and direct the voice which had so entranced him, but another part wanting nothing more than to lock himself in his room and rage about the unfairness of his cursed life and the fact that he would never be able to kiss the woman he loved.

"Please, Erik?" Christine pleaded softly.

That won him out instantly. After all, even though Christine's flirtations threw into sharp relief everything he could never have, it was still nice to be treated as if he were almost normal, if only for a moment. And even if he could never kiss the woman he loved, at least he could help make her happy.

"Of course," he murmured in reply, turning and taking a seat at the piano.

Christine was pleased that he agreed to stay in her company, but she worried that his overwhelming air of melancholy did not seem to dissipate at all. Throughout the course of their lesson, she kept a close eye on him, relieved when some energy began to return to his eyes and voice as he instructed her. Christine knew how passionate Erik was about music, and she had counted on that passion to pull him out of whatever bitter reminiscences he had been indulging in.

Eventually, Erik immersed himself fully into his role as teacher and Christine finally stopped worrying about him and focused solely on the lesson. She had not been exaggerating when she told Erik that, even in the one week he had given her instruction, he was the best vocal coach she had ever encountered. He was very strict, but not unkind, and although he demanded more out of Christine than she ever thought she could achieve, he did it while offering insightful suggestions that helped her to reach his impossible goals, although nothing was ever quite good enough for his perfectionist nature. While such a trait might have bothered Christine from another instructor, from Erik she found that it simply made her push herself all the more in an attempt to please him. For when she did finally nail something he had been trying so hard to fix, he would get a look in his eyes that made her heart flutter, although the most he would ever offer up in praise was a simple "not bad."

By the time Erik finally deemed the lesson to be over for the day, Christine was feeling quite pleased with the progress she had made, not only in learning the opera's score, but in improving her voice in general, and Erik, thankfully, seemed to have given up dwelling on what had transpired between them and was acting like his normal self again. His mood was even improved enough that he was about to strike up friendly conversation as he and Christine went about straightening the sheet music they had been using, but he was stopped by a knock on the front door of the apartment.

"Is it visiting hours for our apartment, or something?" Christine asked, setting her music down quickly. "I feel like I missed the memo."

Erik chuckled. "Perhaps Meg forgot something here and has returned to claim it?"

"I swear, and that girl makes fun of _me _more my forgetfulness," Christine muttered as she made her way to the front of the apartment to answer the door. Erik followed her out, staying hidden in the hallway but making sure to keep her in sight, just in case their visitor wasn't a friendly one.

Christine opened the door without pause, a quip on her tongue that died as soon as she discovered that their visitor was not, in fact, Meg returning to claim a forgotten item. The person standing before her turned out to be a rather handsome Middle Eastern man, probably in his late thirties, with dark green eyes that were currently studying her with open curiosity.

"Ms. Daaé?" inquired the man in a warm baritone.

"Can I help you?" Christine responded politely. Due to Erik's comforting presence behind her, the stranger only inspired her curiosity, not her suspicion. After her experience with her two accosters the other night, Christine had no doubts as to Erik's ability to keep her protected, so this man proved no threat to her. Woe be it unto him if he intended her any harm.

"I'm here to see Erik," the man replied, smiling and holding out his hand. "I'm Nadir Khan. I believe we've spoken on the phone before."

"Oh! It's so good to finally meet you!" Christine exclaimed excitedly, taking his hand in a firm grip.

Nadir raised his eyebrow slightly at her strong handshake, but then he supposed he should have expected no less from the daughter of a man involved so heavily in politics. He gave her another scrutinizing glance as they shook hands, curious about the strange effect this woman seemed to be having on Erik. He could see nothing at first glance to explain Erik's uncommon interest in her. She was pretty enough, to be sure, but she was no spectacular beauty. Then again, Erik would hardly be inclined to judge people based on their appearances.

"Erik's told me a lot about you," Christine continued, interrupting Nadir from his mental assessment.

He smirked, his eyes lighting up mischievously. "I shudder to think what sort of slanderous lies that man has spouted about me."

"You must be mistaken, sir. Erik would never speak badly of anybody. He only ever has _lovely _things to say about you!" Christine declared sincerely, although she was clearly struggling to keep a straight face.

"I must have the wrong apartment, then… Forgive my intrusion."

Christine let out a musical laugh, giving Nadir a brilliant smile that had him doing a double-take and wondering how on Earth he could have passed this woman off as being merely _pretty_. She was dazzling.

Erik, who had been silently watching their interaction from the hallway, smirked ruefully as he watched Nadir's reaction to Christine's smile. He had seen countless people experience the same thing during the time he'd been guarding her, and knew from first-hand experience just how startling it was the change a simple expression could bring to her features. When Christine smiled, she just seemed to radiate such pure happiness that it was impossible not to be slightly entranced by it.

"So is this just a social visit, or do you have some kind of business with Erik?" Christine asked, moving aside and ushering Nadir into the apartment.

"I've actually come to deliver some of his things from our house."

Christine cocked her head to the side curiously. "Erik's been living here for months, now. Why are you just now dropping them off?"

Nadir shifted uncomfortably at the question. "Well, on the rare occasions that Erik does accept live-in assignments such as this, he usually makes it a habit of only packing essential things at first, just to make sure that the arrangement is going to be long-lived."

Christine raised an eyebrow, wordlessly ordering him to continue.

"You may have noticed that Erik isn't exactly the most social of people, nor is he the most tolerant, and there have been several occasions where he either frightened his client into requesting a replacement, or he simply declared that he could not effectively guard someone he wished to throttle on a regular basis, and therefore resigned of his own accord."

"Oh, our Erik…" Christine muttered, shaking her head with a grin. "Ever the charmer, huh?"

Nadir gave a good-natured chuckle. "Indeed. Anyway, as you can see, it just seemed more logical for Erik to transport only some necessary belongings until we could assess how well the two of you would co-exist."

"I see. So, have I successfully outlasted some sort of time limit you guys set, or did I pass some kind of test that I didn't know about?" Christine joked.

"A bit of both, actually."

"Do I get a prize?"

"Of course," Nadir replied easily. "You get Erik's continued presence in your life."

Christine wrinkled her nose in mock-disappointment, her eyes twinkling impishly. "I would hardly call that a prize!"

"I'm standing right here, you know," Erik remarked dryly.

"We know," Nadir and Christine replied in tandem, giving each other conspiratorial grins before turning to face Erik as he stepped into view.

"Erik, old friend! It's lovely to see you again!" Nadir exclaimed jovially. "It's been too long."

"I disagree, Daroga. A millennium away from your insufferable presence wouldn't be long enough."

"Ah, how I have missed your good-natured amiability."

Erik raised a haughty eyebrow at him but deigned not to give a retort. "So I cannot help but notice, _old friend_, that despite the fact that you claim to be forcing your presence upon us in order to deliver some of my belongings, you appear to have brought nothing with you."

"Of course I brought them with me, foolish man! They're still out in the car," Nadir explained. "I certainly wasn't going to carry them up eight flights of stairs by myself."

"And what are the odds of you assisting me in fetching them from your car?" Erik asked, though the resigned tone of his voice showed that he already knew the answer.

Nadir gave him a roguish grin. "Well, I would gladly help, but I feel that my time would be better spent getting to know your lovely roommate," he declared, placing his hand on Christine's shoulder. His grin widened as Erik's eyes narrowed into slits and zeroed in on his hand, as if trying to remove it from her shoulder by sheer force of will. _Well… That's certainly interesting_, Nadir thought to himself with amusement. Out of curiosity, he slid his hand across so that his whole arm was draped around Christine's shoulders under the pretense of maneuvering her towards the couch. His suspicions were confirmed when Erik's hands clenched into fists and he shot Nadir a glare so full of venom it actually sent a chill down his spine. He quickly removed his arm, glancing askance at Christine to see if she had noticed Erik's reaction, but she seemed quite oblivious.

Nadir settled himself onto the couch a careful distance away from Christine and gave Erik a smug, knowing glance that had him clenching his teeth and storming out of the apartment without a word, presumably to fetch his belongings.

Christine blinked in surprise at his sudden departure. "Are you two in the middle of some sort of tiff, or something?"

"That was fairly typical for us, actually," Nadir replied with a chuckle. "I suppose our friendship seems like a strange one, by most standards."

"I guess that's not really surprising, considering how you guys met."

Nadir's dark green eyes widened in shock. "Erik told you about that?"

"Just last night, actually."

"Exactly how much did he tell you?"

"All of it, I'm guessing. Unless he picked some _really _weird details to not edit out of the abridged version," Christine joked weakly. "Actually, I pretty much got his entire life story last night."

Nadir stared at her in disbelief. "He's never even told _me _all of that. I mean, I've cobbled most of it together by bits and pieces, but he's never sat down willingly and talked to me about his past."

Christine blanched guiltily. "Well, he didn't exactly explain it _willingly_. I kind of forced the information out of him…"

Nadir gave her a scrutinizing stare upon hearing this. He liked what he saw of Christine, so far, but the fact that she was able to make Erik reveal these things to her when he didn't want to showed that she had more of a hold on him than Nadir had initially thought. Forcing Erik into anything was practically impossible. Nadir was suddenly wary of this woman, knowing that she had the power to potentially do a lot of damage to his already scarred friend.

"You seem to be handling everything well," Nadir remarked, making it more of a question than a statement.

"Better than Erik was expecting me to, certainly," Christine admitted. "He seemed to be convinced that as soon as he finished talking I would kick him out of my apartment and never speak to him again."

Nadir smiled sadly to himself. "I cannot say I blame the man for it. Most people wouldn't take too kindly to the news that their bodyguard used to be a professional killer."

Christine narrowed her eyes angrily. "And what about the news that Erik was kept in a cage and beaten and forced to perform in a freak show? Or that his mother never even hugged him as a child?" she practically spat.

_Good for you_, Nadir thought with immense approval, fighting back a smile at her defensive reaction. "I'm sure that is precisely the reason Erik expected only your fear and hatred. Those emotions are far easier for him to understand and accept than compassion and forgiveness."

"Yeah, I'd noticed," Christine sighed. Her sudden burst of anger seemed to fade just as quickly, her fierce scowl replaced by a playful grin that played subtly across her face. "I figure he'll eventually get used to the latter concepts if I keep forcing them down his throat," she declared with a wink.

"Well I certainly hope you have more luck with that than I have. That dreadful man is impossibly stubborn!"

"_I'm _stubborn?" Erik questioned incredulously, stalking into the apartment with his usual silent grace despite the cumbersome load of instrument cases and bags he was carrying. "_You_, monsieur, have insisted upon following me around for more than a decade, lecturing and scolding me and in some martyred crusade to try and restore some semblance of a conscience to the sociopathic creature the world has turned me into. You have persisted in this quest no matter how many different countries I have tried to escape to or how hard I've tried to drive you off, and you dare to call _me _stubborn? My stubbornness pales in comparison to your tenacity, Daroga."

Nadir turned to Christine with a teasing grin. "See what I mean? Stubborn. Even after all these years, he cannot admit to himself that he would be utterly lost without me."

Erik tilted his head towards the ceiling with his hands thrown up in supplication, as if seeking divine assistance. "Will I never be able to escape from this man's ego?"

By this point, their playfully hateful banter had dissolved Christine into a near-hysterical fit of laughter.

"It's only considered egotism if one is exaggerating about how wonderful one truly is. Which, as you well know, I am assuredly not," Nadir declared haughtily.

"You know, after several months away from you, I had _almost _forgotten why I was always so miserable while not away on an assignment," Erik remarked wryly. "I sincerely thank you for the reminder."

"Oh, yes, _you _were the miserable one. Never mind the fact that I could never get a good night's sleep because you were always up playing the drums or violin or that blasted organ of yours or whatever the hell instrument happened to strike your fancy at the time at all hours of the night!" Nadir exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at him. "And having to deal with your constantly changing moods… It's like living with a pregnant woman!"

"And on that note, Daroga, I think you'd best be going," Erik remarked darkly, his chilly voice turning the request into an obvious threat.

"Erik!" Christine chided, reaching up to smack his arm playfully. "There's no need to be so rude. Nadir, would you like to stay and have dinner with us?"

Nadir's eyes twinkled with amusement at seeing this waif of a girl chastise her ex-hit man bodyguard. "I would be delighted, my dear."

"And I suppose you expect me to cook for him?" Erik growled to Christine, who simply fluttered her eyelashes in response to his threatening tone.

"Well I would _gladly_ offer to cook for him, V, but you've banned me from using any of the appliances in my kitchen!"

"He did what?" Nadir asked, spluttering with laughter.

"It's only out of concern for your wellbeing, _ange_," Erik explained kindly, although his gentle tone was at odds with the devilish smirk twisting at his pale lips. "I could only stand by for so long and watch your numerous accidents before I felt I had to step in and protect you. I am employed to guard you, after all."

"_Even from yourself_," Christine mouthed along exasperatedly as Erik spoke the last three words. "Yes, yes, I've heard it all before, oh noble guardian and protector."

"Oh, I should have visited the two of you ages ago!" Nadir interrupted, wiping tears from his eyes that had pooled during his fit of laughter.

Erik narrowed his golden eyes at his still-chuckling friend, before turning his attention back to an equally amused Christine. "I'm going to go put these things away and start on dinner. Keep that horrid man out of the kitchen, unless you want your knives to be used for something besides slicing vegetables."

Christine rolled her eyes good-naturedly before watching Erik stalk down the hallway, unable to help from noticing the way his burdens made his muscles strain attractively against his shirt.

Nadir noted her actions with a surge of delight. It was about time Erik found himself a woman who didn't seem bothered by the mask or his temper. He was happy enough just seeing her joke with Erik and treat him like a normal man, but the look in her eyes as she watched him walk away made Nadir hopeful that there was more going on between the two than they were willing to admit.

When Christine finally dragged her attention away from Erik, Nadir settled back into his seat and struck up a conversation. He wanted to learn as much about Christine as he could in order to determine just how excited he should be about the potential development between her and Erik.

As they chatted comfortably with each other, Erik throwing in an occasional joke or sharp remark from the kitchen, Nadir found himself becoming thoroughly charmed by Christine Daaé.

She was lively and intelligent, with a quick wit that rivaled even Erik's razor tongue, but that, unlike her cynical bodyguard's, was always delivered with an effervescent happiness that never seemed to diminish. Like her father, whom Nadir had encountered several times as he was also under the protection of their security agency, Christine possessed an easy-going confidence that allowed her to speak and act freely without concern that people would think badly of her.

Nadir couldn't help but think that her self-assured, optimistic nature would be a perfect match for dealing with the cynicism and self-loathing that had been so thoroughly stamped into Erik by his tormented past, and by the time Erik announced that dinner was ready, Nadir was feeling quite excited by the prospect that Fate might have finally decided to smile upon his friend.

"Mmm… Steak? You spoil me, V," Christine declared, sauntering past Erik and trailing her hand across his shoulders teasingly, causing him to slam his eyes shut and suck in a deep breath to steady his heartbeat. When he opened his eyes again, he was met with Nadir's raised eyebrow and pleased smirk. He narrowed his eyes in a silent warning to Nadir, who quickly pantomimed locking his lips shut and throwing away the key, although his smirk never diminished.

"So I guess you've decided I can be trusted to use a steak knife?" Christine teased, oblivious to the silent interaction between the two men.

"Only so long as I am around to help you in the event of an accident," Erik replied playfully.

Christine placed a hand delicately against her forehead and feigned a swoon. "Oh, Erik, whatever would I do without you?" she proclaimed melodramatically in a Southern Belle accent.

"Be silent and eat your steak, wench," Erik snapped, though the pleased grin he could not suppress took away any sting from his words.

"Well the service of this establishment certainly leaves something to be desired," Nadir remarked sidelong to Christine as he fixed a plate of steak, garlic mashed potatoes, and sautéed asparagus and settled into a chair beside her.

Christine giggled, adding a small smear of butter to her roll. "Trust me, the food more than makes up for the service."

"Oh, I'm fully aware that Erik can cook just as well as he can do any other task that he decides to undertake. But if you think this is good," he interjected, pointing a potato-laden fork at her. "I'll have to invite you over one day and cook you an authentic Iranian meal. This is nothing compared to my lamb kabobs."

"As much as I hate to admit it, his kabobs are pretty damn good," Erik murmured in her ear, leaning in with the pretense of setting a glass of tea in front of her before settling himself at the table.

Christine hid her delighted shudder as his cool breath whispered past her ear, taking a small sip of tea and turning her attention back to Nadir with a smile. "Then I will definitely hold you to that, sir."

Nadir could only nod in response, taking a large bite of steak to keep from grinning at the subtle flirtation he had just witnessed between the two.

The rest of the meal passed quickly with easy conversation and friendly banter, and by the time they were finished, Erik felt strangely buoyed with contentment from an evening spent with friends. _Friends_, plural. Because, for the first time in his life, he had more than one.

Christine scooting her chair back and standing from the table interrupted Erik from his momentary reverie. "Well, as much fun as this has been, fellas, I have a music theory final to study for." She held a hand out to Nadir and gave him another of her luminous smiles. "It was great finally meeting you, Nadir. You should try and drop by more often. It's great having back-up when I'm giving this guy hell," she said, jerking her thumb to Erik with a wink.

Nadir gave a rich laugh, grasping her hand and raising it to his lips for a chaste kiss. "I look forward to many more occasions, my dear."

Christine giggled and pulled her hand away slowly to lean against the back of Erik's chair. "G'night, V. Thanks for dinner," she muttered, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind and pressing a quick kiss to the cheekbone of his mask before flouncing off to her bedroom to study.

Erik's eyes widened almost comically in his shock, and he sat frozen for a long time after she departed, Nadir watching him with a mixture of concern and barely hidden amusement.

"So what does the V stand for?" he finally queried when Erik showed no inclination towards speaking.

"Villainous," Erik monotoned, his eyes still fixed on an indefinable point on the wall across from him.

Nadir arched a dark eyebrow bemusedly. "Oh, well, of course. That was my first guess," he joked. "Are you alright, Erik?"

"I'm in love with her."

"Ah," Nadir replied knowingly, unable to keep a smirk from spreading across his face. "I thought as much."

"I've never even _liked _a woman before this," Erik continued in his dazed manner, almost as if talking to himself. "All the women I've spent any length of time with, besides Christine, have been too afraid to even really talk to me. They always just avoided me completely, or just ignored me if I was assigned to guard them and that wasn't an option."

"Well that reaction wasn't exactly limited to women, Erik. Most men you meet are afraid of you, too," Nadir interjected quietly. "And people probably wouldn't be so frightened of you if you didn't, you know, purposefully try to intimidate them."

"Aren't you supposed to just _like _girls before falling madly in love with them?" Erik asked despairingly, as if Nadir had never even spoken. "Shouldn't I just be developing an innocent infatuation with her, right now? Where when she smiles at me it feels like there's a flock of butterflies fluttering in my stomach, not a rabid beast trying to claw its way out?"

"Oh, Erik…" Nadir intoned sympathetically. "You've got it bad, _dadash_."

Erik dropped his head into his hands with a moan. "I feel like I'm possessed half the time. She makes me say and do things I _never_ would have before. And earlier, when you kissed her hand, I wanted nothing more than to rip your eyes out of your skull."

Nadir blanched at this, visions of Erik's days in Iran flashing through his mind at the violent imagery, but Erik continued on, oblivious to the effect of his admission.

"Sometimes she'll smile at me, and her _goddamned_ impossibly blue eyes will light up give me this look that makes my chest physically ache, and it's absolute _torture_ to keep myself from kissing her."

"Well why do you, then?" Nadir prodded gently. "Why not just kiss the girl? I certainly didn't get the impression that she would be adverse to the idea."

Erik buried his head even further into his hands, the increased pressure causing the mask to dig painfully into his skin. "Don't be naïve, Nadir. Even if she wouldn't be adverse to it now, what do you think would happen if she ever saw behind _this_?" he asked, gesturing angrily towards his mask. "What angel would ever accept a kiss from a demon like me?"

Nadir released a long, melancholy sigh. "You are not a demon, Erik. Nor are you a monster, a ghost, an angel of death, a corpse, or any of the other things cruel, ignorant people have labeled you during your life. You are a man, nothing more. And Christine, as lovely as she seems, is not an angel."

"Oh, but she is, Nadir," Erik whispered reverently, jerking his hands away from his face to meet his friend's worried eyes. "She is an angel of song, of beauty, of light… An angel of mercy, sent to heal my damaged soul…"

"Erik, your words are poetry, truly," Nadir began, placing his hand over Erik's in concern. "But it's not healthy to put the girl up on a pedestal like that."

Erik stared at their hands resting on the table, noting with detached interest how Nadir's naturally tan skin made his own pallor seem even more corpse-like. "What's not healthy, Nadir, is loving a woman whom I know can never love me in return. At least if I put her on a pedestal, it will always serve as a reminder that she's out of my reach."

Nadir gave him a pained look and squeezed his cold hand in supplication. "Erik-"

"No, Nadir, don't," Erik interrupted suddenly. "I don't need your sympathy or your concern. I'm fine. Truly. I was just… I just needed to admit to everything, finally, and get it off my chest."

"Erik, if all of this is truly so painful for you, perhaps you should consider reassigning someone else to guard Christine."

Erik shook his head vehemently, jerking his hand out from under Nadir's. "No!" he practically shouted. "No," he repeated, calming down slightly. "I didn't mean for it to sound like that. That's not… It-it's hard, yes, but it's all worth it. These past few months with her have been the happiest of my life, Nadir," he declared, eyes shining with the truth of his statement. "It hurts, sometimes, but I'll take what I can get from her."

Nadir nodded slowly. "If that is how you feel, then I trust your judgment on this. Just… Don't be so quick to assume that you know exactly how Christine feels or how she might react to seeing your face. She seems like quite a remarkable girl, Erik. She might just surprise you."

"She is remarkable, Daroga, and she's already surprised me on numerous occasions. But she's only human."

Nadir smirked slightly. "Make up your mind, then. Is she a celestial, untouchable being, or a fallible human?"

Erik chuckled at his question and gave him a sheepish, melancholy smile. "She's my friend, Nadir. And that's all that I expect or deserve from her."

"Very well, you stubborn man. I know better than to try and argue with you." Nadir gave a long-suffering sigh and pushed his chair back from the table. "But alas, it's getting late, and I am getting too old to keep the hours that we used to."

"Too old?" Erik scoffed. "You're halfway into your thirties, Daroga. You're hardly geriatric yet."

"Ah, but after a decade dealing with you I feel nearly eighty," Nadir countered with a grin, standing up from the table and following Erik to the front door.

"Well I assure you, you don't look a day over seventy-five."

"Oh, silence your venomous tongue, Phantom, or I shall be tempted to cut it off."

Erik let out a darkly amused chuckle. "It would appear I've been a poor influence on you, Daroga. Such threats are supposed to be made by the villains of the story, not the shining white knights. Where are your infuriatingly scrupulous morals?"

"At home in my bed, I presume. Perhaps I shall recover them after a full night's rest."

"We can only hope," Erik remarked lightly, though he sobered quickly. "Thank you, Nadir, for listening to my lovesick ramblings, and for your advice. Even though I plan on ignoring most of it."

"Of course, Erik. You know I take no greater pleasure in life than giving you countless shining jewels of wisdom which you stubbornly choose to ignore."

"Good night, Daroga," Erik bid, choosing to ignore Nadir's sarcastic remark.

"Good night, _dadash_. And good luck with your lady fair. It's nice to see you happy, for once, even if it is a rather tortured form of the emotion."

"Well, with the life I've had, I suspect that if I ever experienced _pure _happiness, I might just overdose on it."

"And on that dreadfully cynical note, I will take my leave," Nadir remarked, stepping out the door with a parting wave.

Erik smirked to himself as he watched his friend's retreating form before locking the door securely behind him and shuffling to his bedroom to attempt to get some rest of his own.

ECECECECECECEC

Ah, finally a healthy dose of Nadir. And does everyone approve of Meg's reaction to the Danny situation, by the way?

*"Dadash" is Farsi for "brother."

Reviews are love.


	20. Chapter 20

**Guarded Hearts**

_All recognizable characters are property of Gaston Leroux or Susan Kay._

Yet another installment, dreadfully late as always, and also proofread at midnight, so if anyone sees any errors please point them out to be. Thanks so so so much for the amazing reviews you guys are still leaving, even with my horribly sketchy updates! They mean the world to me.

ECECECECECECECECEC

"I'm going to kill her."

Erik watched as Christine marched angrily off to the side of the stage where Meg and several other dancers were awaiting their turn to rehearse, the directors currently working with some of the actors on their dialogue.

Meg continued to stretch her legs out, barely sparing her friend a glance. "Stop that. No you're not."

"Death. Slow and painful."

"Chris, you are freakishly compassionate to all living things."

"Maybe something involving fire… Or acid…"

"You won't even let people squish bugs in your presence."

"Or maybe that whole anthill and honey thing… Can ants be fatal if enough of them bite you?"

"Talk all you want, but I know you're not going to commit homicide on a classmate," Meg declared confidently.

Christine crossed her arms with a huff, her face morphing into that adorable pout that always made Erik want to gather her into his arms. "You don't know that. I have a dark side. I just might surprise you."

"Oh, please, Chris. A dark side? _Nothing _about you could be considered dark! You don't drink, you don't smoke, you're still a virgin, you're nice to everyone you meet, you're always happy, you're freakishly optimistic and always try to see the best in people, you can't stay mad at anyone, even if you try-"

"Untrue!" Christine interrupted vehemently. "I'm furious right now, and I'm not even trying."

"Okay, fine, but it took Carlotta trying to trip you three times, calling you a toad repeatedly, and making that comment over whether your idiocy was because you were a natural blonde, or whether the peroxide just seeped into your skull and killed off brain cells. And still you haven't actually said a word to _her _about it. Ever considered just standing up for yourself, honey?"

Christine shifted guiltily. "Why bother talking when I could just push her into oncoming traffic?" she asked, but her voice was meek instead of full of her previous bluster.

"You really will do anything to avoid conflict, won't you?" Meg asked, shaking her head in disappointment. When Christine's only response was to bite her lip and glance down, she continued more sympathetically. "You do know Carlotta's only being like this because she's threatened by you, right?"

"Threatened?" Christine scoffed. "She got cast as the Prima Donna, and I'm just a measly understudy. What could she possibly have to be threatened about?"

"Oh, I don't know… Maybe the fact that you're a much better actress? Or that everyone seems to like you and no one plots executions for you involving honey and anthills?"

Christine giggled weakly. "Really, she brings that upon herself…"

"Or maybe it's because you've always been a damn good singer, and now all of the sudden your voice seems to be getting even better every day. I mean, I'm no vocal major, but even I've noticed the difference. Whatever superior abilities Carlotta may have had over you to land her the lead, you seem to be bridging the gap between the two of you really quickly. You should see how people stare at you whenever you get to sing during rehearsals!"

"That's all thanks to Erik," Christine explained with a shy, though very pleased, smile. Her words brought a swelling of pride to Erik's chest. "He's been giving me vocal lessons ever since we had auditions."

"Ah, I should have guessed… Honestly, Chris, is there anything this man of yours _can't _do?"

Christine cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. "He can't whistle. Or eat shellfish. Apparently it makes his throat swell up or something… His friend told me about a rather unfortunate incident involving lobster bisque at a formal dinner with some foreign dignitaries…" Christine trailed off for a moment, as if trying to think of more items to list, before a smirk tugged up the corners of her full lips. "And he can't say no to a pair of big blue eyes begging him for something. I swear, Ayesha and I both have become quite spoiled since he moved in," she remarked, shooting a playful wink up to the rafters where she knew Erik to be.

He grinned broadly despite himself, unable to be offended when he knew her words to be true.

"As if the two of you weren't already… Oh, speaking of Mr. Multitalented," Meg segued, standing from her stretching and rising up and down on her toes a few times experimentally, "Should I send him his own invitation to the wedding, or should I just go ahead and count him as your plus one?"

"That depends. Had you already planned on sending one to Daddy? Really, he and Erik are the only two I can think of to take."

"Jeez, Chris, that's just sad!"

"Thanks, Meg. Making me feel wonderful about myself over here," Christine remarked sarcastically.

Meg grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant… You're so popular and well-liked around campus, but the only close friends you actually have are Erik and me? That's a bit weird…"

"Don't forget Danny Boy! You can't claim him all to yourself. And Daddy and I have always acted more like best friends than father and child."

"Wow… Four people. How impressive, Boo Radley," Meg deadpanned.

Christine shrugged unconcernedly. "For the longest time it was only three, and you never saw fit to lecture me. Why start worrying now that I've added another person to my inner circle?"

"Touché… But, back to the subject of wedding invitations, have you considered bringing a date?"

Erik clenched his fists at those words, his breath baited as he waited to hear Christine's response.

"And have to risk him getting drunk and making a pass at me? Remember what happened with that Roger guy at your aunt's wedding?"

"How could I forget… Didn't he call you the next day when he'd sobered up and try to demand that you pay to have his tux dry-cleaned to get the wine stains out of it?"

Christine grinned wickedly. "It was rather clever of me to go for his glass of Bordeaux, rather than my own ice water, wasn't it?"

"It was certainly far more entertaining to watch… But, you know, Nick is going to be Danny's best man, and as much as I love the guy, you know he tends to get a bit wild when there's an open bar available. Having a date with you might keep _him_ from getting drunk and making a pass at you."

"I'll have Erik to do that," Christine confidently replied. "And I'd much rather spend the evening talking to him than some random guy, anyway."

Erik felt a grin breaking across his face so big that it was almost painful, considering his facial muscles were unaccustomed to such an expression.

"And what if Erik wanted to take a date?" Meg quietly suggested, studying Christine closely for her reaction.

Christine instantly stilled in the simple dance steps she had been practicing, an indecipherable expression crossing her face. "Oh. I… I hadn't even thought of that…"

"Why not?"

She shifted uncomfortably, trying very hard to make her face appear neutral. Erik was almost tempted to think that she looked jealous at the idea, but he knew that to be merely wishful thinking and quickly pushed the thought away.

"Well, Erik's always with me," Christine finally justified. "It's not like he's had much of an opportunity to meet anyone since he's been guarding me. I mean… Whenever I go out in public he… well… hides. He doesn't really like people."

"Or maybe he's just too quick to assume that people don't like him, and cutting himself off from society is his way of dealing with it," Meg countered. "You told me how reluctant he was to spend time with you when he first moved in, but you forced him into it, and now the two of you seem to love being around each other."

Erik was unsure how to react to Meg's surprisingly insightful postulations, though he was rather pleased that, to Meg's eyes, Christine seemed to enjoy his presence in her life almost as much as he enjoyed her presence in his.

"Are you sure about this whole dance career? Because I think you would make an excellent shrink," Christine joked evasively.

Meg rolled her eyes good-naturedly, but continued on as if Christine hadn't spoken. "I just think that you should try to get Erik out more. Maybe see if there are any places he likes to visit or things he does for fun when he's not working."

"You know, you're absolutely right… I've been taking him for granted ever since he moved in. I never even thought about the fact that he's essentially put his own life on hold while he follows me around and guards mine…"

_Put my life on hold? Foolish girl, you _are _my life_… Erik thought, though he found himself touched by her concern.

"And this way, he can meet new people and realize that a mask is not a good enough reason to deter people from getting to know such a charming, fascinating man. Who knows, he may even meet a woman he'd like to invite to the wedding."

Christine actually stumbled in the midst of the dance sequence she was practicing, causing Meg to smirk knowingly.

"Unless, of course, you have some objection to this?" she asked innocently.

Christine glared daggers at her prying friend, but before she could respond and assuage Erik's highly piqued curiosity, one of the stage-hands came over and announced that she was needed to review some changes in the blocking of one of Carmen's songs.

Christine eagerly took the escape she was granted from Meg's inquisition, though her eagerness faded quite quickly as she once more found herself in the presence of Carlotta, who seemed to be in a particularly vicious mood that day.

Erik watched throughout the rehearsal, growing increasingly more furious as Christine was forced to endure Carlotta's endless stream of catty remarks and the condescending giggles they received from her fan-club. He was torn between admiring Christine's strength of will for enduring it all silently and being frustrated with her inability to stand up for herself. It was all he could do to keep himself from stepping in and doing something, anything, to shut the dreadful girl up, but he didn't want to risk angering Christine with his intervention. When Carlotta stooped to making cruel comments about Christine's family, however, and Erik saw tears beginning to glint in her sapphire eyes, he found he could restrain himself no longer.

"Have you noticed they never mention her mother in any of the news reports? Poor woman probably couldn't deal with having such a spoiled, vapid little Barbie doll for a daughter and ran off when she was little. I bet her father wishes he could, too. He probably wouldn't mind if some of those mobsters actually kidnapped her like they've threatened to do before," Carlotta declared to the group of girls clustered around her, her voice easily loud enough to be heard by Christine.

Christine stubbornly refused to acknowledge her, though, keeping her eyes glued to the choreographer as she was taught the blocking for one of Carmen's songs while the director was reviewing dialogue with some of the other actors. The sudden sound of screams instantly drew her attention, though, and she turned around just in time to see a heavy backdrop fall from the rafters, crashing barely inches away from Carlotta.

Everyone stared in stunned silence for a moment, before it was broken by Carlotta suddenly dissolving into tears.

"Oh my God! I could have _died_! What the hell is going on up there?" she screamed, glaring up at the ceiling. "Aren't you stagehands supposed to know what the hell you're doing? You could have killed me just then!"

The student who had been appointed stage manager narrowed his eyes angrily at her accusation. "No one's even up in the flies today! We're still working on painting all the scenery for this show. That's an old backdrop that _almost killed you_," the boy declared, pitching his voice into a melodramatic falsetto on the last three words in a mockery of her accusation and eliciting a round of laughter.

Carlotta's face flushed red from her rage and embarrassment. "Well if it's not one of you lot screwing around that dropped it, how did it fall? Clearly it wasn't secured properly after the last production!"

"Or maybe it's a ghost who got sick of hearing you gossip," Meg remarked innocently, giving Carlotta a falsely-sweet smile.

Christine's mouth dropped open slightly at Meg's suggestion, and her eyes instantly flew to the rafters. Erik carefully hid himself from her view, rather anxious over how she would react to his stunt, but unable to make himself regret it. It had taken all of his strength of will to drop the set piece where he knew it wouldn't actually hit Carlotta, as opposed to dropping it on her head, as had been his first impulse.

"Oh, this is ridiculous! I can't possibly be expected to focus when I'm terrified that another backdrop is going to fall on my head at any minute! I'm going home, and by tomorrow's rehearsal I fully expect you stage hands to have checked everything in the flies to make sure it's actually safe to stand on this stage!" Carlotta ordered, whirling around and marching angrily out of the auditorium.

"Good riddance," the stage manager murmured to the cast members standing around him, once again drawing a number of laughs. "It's a shame that ghost didn't have better aim…"

"Is everyone alright?" the director, Professor Woods, inquired, seeming rather flustered by Carlotta's storm-out but trying to regain control of the situation. Calming when he was assured that no one was injured by the incident, he continued, "Henry? Would you mind taking some of the crew into the flies and double-checking that anything else that's hanging up there is secure?"

The stage manager, Henry, nodded easily and began gathering some of his classmates together for the task.

"Everyone else, please return to your places for rehearsal. Christine, I guess this will be a good opportunity to get some uninterrupted practice in," Woods remarked, smiling weakly at her. He was fully aware of the ridicule Carlotta always subjected her to in rehearsal, but since Christine seemed content to completely ignore it, he had decided it wasn't his place to intervene.

Christine, recognizing the unspoken apology in his statement, returned his smile easily and wordlessly made her way back on stage. The remainder of rehearsal passed without event, and while Christine was grateful for the peace provided by Carlotta's absence, she was anxious for practice to be over so she could confront Erik.

When Professor Woods finally decided to call it a night, Christine eagerly exited the auditorium, waiting until she was alone on the streets to speak to the seemingly empty night air. "Nice stunt, Phantom."

When Erik did not speak to refute her claim, Christine knew her suspicions had been valid. "What the hell were you thinking, Erik? You could have seriously hurt her!"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Erik's voice murmured back to her.

"Erik! That's not funny. Carlotta may be a bitch, but she doesn't deserve to have her neck broken."

A slight sigh met her reprimand, but Christine couldn't tell the emotion that had inspired it. "I assure you that Carlotta was in no actual harm. Contrary to your stage manager's belief, I have impeccable aim."

Christine crossed her arms angrily, not willing to let him off the hook so easily. "What if she had stepped in the way at the last minute?"

"I had full control of the rope the backdrop was hung from the entire time. I made sure it fell slowly enough that everyone had time to get out of the way, and had that idiotic girl not been able to process quickly enough, I could have stopped its descent at the last second. Though how I would have explained that away without revealing my presence I'm not entirely sure…"

Christine glared into the shadows beside her where she assumed Erik would be hiding, although she had no idea where he actually was, as per usual.

Erik, hating the idea that he had displeased her in any way, quickly let the smirk fade from his face and voice. "She was in no danger tonight, Christine, I promise you," he declared penitently. "I apologize for alarming you with my actions. I just… I couldn't bear to sit by idly while she said such hateful things about you."

Christine softened instantly, her anger being replaced gratitude at his admission. Slowly, her reproachful expression shifted into a playful, slightly wicked grin. "Her reaction was pretty hilarious…"

Relief flooded through Erik as he realized that he was forgiven, and any of the remorse he had been feeling was replaced with dark amusement. "Dreadfully so. For her to be so fond of calling you a toad, _she _certainly resembled one with her eyes bulging out of her head like that!"

Christine pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. "You're awful, V!" she declared, although her voice made it sound like the greatest of compliments.

"A villain, through and through," Erik agreed teasingly.

"Ah, but how can that be when your wicked actions are all in order to save the heroine?" Christine refuted. "No, you may seem like the villain of the tale at first glance, but really you are my dark knight. A pure, valorous heart that has been trapped beneath a cold, uncaring exterior by the cruelties of the world."

Erik stared at her in disbelief. "Is that really how you see me?" he asked softly.

Christine didn't respond, but Erik could see the shy smile and blush that spread across her face before she ducked her head down to hide it.

As the silence grew between them, Christine felt a shiver of anxiety race through her as she actually took in her surroundings and realized exactly what part of town she was walking through, seemingly unaccompanied, at night. Usually rehearsals let out before sunset, but the Carlotta incident had set them behind schedule, and they had held late to make up for it.

"Are you alright?" Erik inquired, picking up on her unease instantly.

Christine shrugged and wrapped her coat tighter around herself. "I'm fine. I just… I don't really like walking through these streets at night. I've been a bit paranoid ever since those creeps broke into my bedroom."

"I'm right here, _ange_," Erik assured her gently. "No harm will come to you."

"I know that. Logically, anyway. I guess I would just feel better if I could actually _see _you…"

Erik was slightly taken aback by that, so unaccustomed to the idea that his appearance could actually instill comfort in anyone. "By remaining hidden, I have the element of surprise on the very slight chance that someone does decide to attack you."

"Yeah, but it seems to me that people would be way less likely to attack me if they actually saw you with me," Christine argued.

"Not neccesarily. Especially if your attackers are hired criminals linked to your father, not just common street scum."

"Please, V?" Christine pleaded softly. "It would make me feel better."

Erik appeared beside her almost instantly. Christine smiled happily and quickly reached out to lace her fingers securely through his.

"So you don't try to slip back into hiding," she explained simply at the startled look he shot her.

As they strolled on together in silence, Erik reveled in the moment that so many others would surely take for granted, but which he cherished down to his very core. To walk down the street hand in hand with the woman he loved was such an overwhelmingly _normal _occurrence, made all the more extraordinary by its sheer normalcy, that he had never hoped to experience in his accursed life.

He was struck suddenly by the irony of Christine's earlier concerns about hindering his life, considering he had _lived _more in the months that he had known her than he ever had in the previous three decades of his existence.

ECECECECECEC

So, what do you think? Your oh so wonderful reviews are the reason I haven't flaked out of this story yet, even with my life as busy as it is.


	21. Chapter 21

**Guarded Hearts**

So I know this chapter is also rather unsatisfyingly short, but hey, you had to wait less than a week for it! So, this is essentially another filler chapter, but you will be happy to know that there will be some major plot developments happening within the next few chapters. So for all of you who have been eager for some progress to be made in Erik and Christine's relationship... Your patience will soon be rewarded. Until then, enjoy! And review.

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Erik released Christine's hand quite reluctantly when they arrived back at the apartment, unlocking the door and holding it open for her to enter before him. His actions caused Christine to wonder, not for the first time, where, in his brutal excuse for a childhood, he had possibly learned his chivalry and impeccable manners.

She followed as he wordlessly made his way into the kitchen and sat at the table, watching him contemplatively while he set about preparing dinner. He'd seemed oddly subdued and introspective throughout most of their walk home, though not unhappily so. If the emotion weren't such a strange one to find on him, Christine would be tempted to say that he looked quite content. The quiet melancholy and loneliness that always seemed to reside in his golden eyes, even in his cheeriest of moods, seemed nowhere to be found that night.

"Anything I can do to help?" she asked hopefully when he finally glanced over at her, although she already knew the answer to her question.

Erik's lips twitched upwards at the corners. "Of course. You can sit there, far away from anything sharp or heated, and refrain from injuring me or yourself."

Christine rolled her eyes and collapsed on the table in a defeated slump, pillowing her head on her arms and studying Erik through the curtain of her golden hair that had pooled around her face in soft waves. Erik was glad that his hands were occupied filling a pot with water, otherwise he would surely have given into the temptation to walk forward and bury them in her silken tresses, which looked so much like spun gold to him at that moment.

"I hate that you do so much for me and I feel like I have no way to repay you," Christine murmured, almost to herself.

Erik balked at the idea that _she _should feel indebted to _him_, considering the fact that she had already given him more joy in his life than he could ever have imagined possible. He could not bring himself to voice these feelings, though, and instead deflected her concern with a joke. "Are you aware of exactly how great of a salary your father is giving me? I assure you, I'm being repaid quite handsomely for my assistance."

Christine rolled her eyes at him. "Don't think you can brush off my gratitude so easily, mister. Your argument has no merit when you know fully well that the only thing you're getting paid for is to keep me safe. No one is compensating you for cooking for me or giving me voice lessons, or for helping me study or proofreading my papers or any of the thousands of other things you do for me on a regular basis."

Erik busied himself pulling ingredients out of the fridge as he thought of a way to explain himself without revealing the true depths of his feelings.

"Christine, I require no compensation for that. I _like _doing all of those things for you." He turned away under the pretense of slicing mushrooms so that he would not have to look at her as he made his admission. "For so long in my job I've grown accustomed to being relegated to dark corners and ignored as if I were no more than an uncommon piece of furniture. I like being more than just a bodyguard to you." Finally finding the courage to meet her gaze, he continued on. "I have had so little friendship in my life… I feel that nothing I do could ever truly express my gratitude for having been gifted with yours."

"Erik, you hardly need to do all of this for me just to show me you're grateful. My friendship is given freely and happily, for no other reason than that I enjoy being around you. It doesn't require compensation."

"You misinterpret my words, _mon ange_."

Christine tried not to smile at the addition of the possessive claim to the pet name he seemed to have formed for her.

"I did not mean to imply that I undertake these tasks simply in order to give recompense to you. I do them because I enjoy them. I have always loved to cook, and I derive just as much satisfaction from the improvements to your voice as you do. And as to the rest… I grew up in a house where I was nothing but an unwanted burden to my mother. It is quite satisfying, in contrast, to feel useful and wanted by you."

Erik glanced up in time to see a look of complete tenderness soften Christine's usually mischievous blue eyes. "However," he added teasingly, wanting to change the subject and venture out of unfamiliarly intimate territory. "If you still desire some way to show your gratitude for all of my assistance, you could always raise my salary."

Christine giggled, more than happy to fall back into their comfortable routine of sarcasm and humor. "Yes, but what good is money when you have nothing to spend it on?" she asked. "You spend all of your time holed up here with me, and I refuse to let you pay for any of the groceries. What would you even do with the extra money?"

"Deposit it in my Secret Super Villain Account, of course. World domination is a rather expensive task to undertake," Erik explained as if it were obvious.

"Oh, of course!" Christine exclaimed, slapping herself on the forehead. She sobered slightly as she suddenly remembered the point Meg had brought up to her earlier in the evening. "Seriously, though, what do you like to do for fun?"

"I enjoy a great many things, but few that require venturing into public. I'm assuming this question is in response to Mademoiselle Giry's earlier concerns?"

"Well, yeah. I'd not really considered before how rude I've been, dragging you around wherever I feel like going and not even bothering to ask if there were things you wanted to do."

Erik smirked slightly as he added the mushrooms he had just sliced into the wine sauce he was making. "Once again I would like to remind you that I am your bodyguard, Christine. While it is my job to follow you around everywhere you wish to go, it's certainly not my place to dictate where that may be."

"Like hell it isn't," Christine interjected sternly. "V, if you're going to claim my friendship, that means you have to get out of this stupider employer/employee mindset and put yourself on equal footing with me."

"As you wish, mademoiselle," Erik declared, bowing regally with a flourish of the spatula he still held in his hand.

"Good. Now that that's settled… Back to my earlier question. What kind of things do you like to do when you're not stuck guarding people?"

Erik shrugged his shoulders dismissively. "I've already informed you of my numerous interests in life."

"No, you've informed me of your numerous _careers_."

"All of which I happen to be greatly interested in, as luck would have it."

Christine rolled her eyes at his evasive answers. "Yeah, but that's not what I mean. I know you like composing and painting and designing buildings and what have you, but what do you do in your free time?

"I compose and paint and design buildings," he answered, his eyes glinting impishly.

"You're impossible!" Christine huffed, to which Erik merely responded with a crooked, rakish grin. "Fine, if you won't offer up the information willingly, I'll just have to change my tactics. Do you like going to the movies?"

"I prefer our current routine for watching movies. I doubt our typical running commentary on them would be much appreciated in a public theatre."

"Alright, that's understandable. Concerts?"

"I suppose it would depend on what music was being performed."

"Plays?"

"I visited The Globe quite a bit while staying in England. I've only been to a few plays since moving here, though. _Spamalot_ was surprisingly enjoyable…"

Christine giggled at that admission. Leave it to Erik to express a love for both Shakespeare and Monty Python in the same sentence. "How about theme parks?" she continued.

"I've actually never attended one."

"What? That is absolutely being rectified this summer! You have no say in the matter, though I suppose I will give you the option of choosing between Disneyworld or Universal Studios."

Erik grinned to himself, inordinately pleased that Christine didn't even seem to question his continued presence in her life after her graduation.

"So do you like going to nightclubs?"

Erik glanced over his shoulder to stare at her incredulously. "Is that a joke?"

"I'll take that as a 'no', then… Just checking. You never know! How about operas?"

"Ah, now those I have always loved, though I must admit that I haven't attended one since leaving Europe quite a few years ago…"

Christine quieted, then, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"What, finished already?" Erik asked, pouring pasta shells into the pot of water as it finally began to boil. "You still have fourteen questions left, by my count."

"I'm saving them for later," Christine replied easily.

"So does that mean it's my turn?"

"I suppose, if you like. What did you want to ask me?"

Erik hesitated, stirring the noodles and debating how best to broach his query. "At rehearsal tonight Carlotta mentioned something about your mother, and it made me realize you've never mentioned her to me before…" He glanced back to see how Christine was reacting, encouraged to see that she seemed perfectly serene and composed. "I suppose I'm just curious why you never talk about her."

"Honestly, I have nothing to talk about. I never knew my mother. She died giving birth to me."

Erik sucked in a breath, instantly regretting his curiosity. "Forgive me, Christine. I should not have asked…"

"It's fine, V. I promise. Like I said, I never knew her, so it's not like I can miss her. I mean, I guess I've always missed the idea of having a mother, but my father's always been so wonderful to me that I've never felt like I was deprived of anything." Christine twirled a lock of hair around her finger thoughtfully. "I've seen plenty of pictures, and I don't really look anything like her. I take a lot more after my father, but he says I've got her voice, and her 'thousand kilowatt smile', as he always calls it…" she trailed off slowly, a nostalgic look on her face. "Daddy always said that the instant he saw her smile he knew she was the woman he wanted to marry. One time I asked him what he would have done if she'd turned out to be a miserable bitch, but he said he knew that wasn't possible because-"

"No one with a smile like that could be anything but wonderful?" Erik interrupted softly.

Christine blinked in surprise. "Well, yeah… Not in those words, exactly, but yeah."

"As your father says, you have the same smile," he explained quietly, keeping his back to her to hide his embarrassment and therefore not seeing when she gifted him with just such a smile.

Her smile faded slightly as she noticed that they had once again ventured into the territory of serious, personal conversation. She was rather shocked to realize just how comfortable she felt discussing this with Erik, considering how hard she usually tried to avoid revealing anything personal about herself.

She quickly changed the topic to something light-hearted and humorous to avoid having to acknowledge yet another piece of evidence towards her growing feelings for Erik, stubbornly ignoring the voice that whispered '_coward_' in her head the entire time.

After dinner, Erik helped Christine go over her lines for Carmen while she did the dishes and straightened up, as had become their habit in recent weeks. When that was finished, Erik decided to work on some architectural designs while Christine left to take a shower. He had been at it for less than five minutes when a sudden yelp and a crash came from the bathroom, followed by Christine calling his name out sharply.

Erik rushed instantly towards the sound, but Christine had bolted out of the room before he could reach it, and the two collided with each other rather comically in the hallway. Erik wrapped his arms around Christine reflexively to keep her from falling, opening his mouth to ask her what had happened, but suddenly felt his mind go entirely blank at the realization that Christine was dripping wet and clad in nothing but a small white towel.

He suddenly felt as if he had molten lava coursing through his veins, and he couldn't stop his arms from tightening and drawing Christine even closer, until she was pressed forcefully against him.

"Um… Hi," Christine greeted in surprise, unable to keep her hands from tightening on his muscular shoulders in response to being held so possessively. "Sorry about the scream, or yelp or whatever it was… I'm not being attacked or anything, I swear. At least, I don't think I am… It just, um, appears that someone else had a prior claim on our shower…" she trailed off as she realized that she was babbling, pushing away from Erik suddenly in an attempt to regain coherency to her speech. The voice in her head which had previously labeled her a coward was now calling her an idiot, as well, for trying to distance herself when it felt oh so good to be trapped in his embrace, but Christine stubbornly ignored it and smiled at her slightly catatonic bodyguard as if nothing were amiss.

Erik stared at her for several moments, his eyes burning hot enough that Christine was half expecting her towel to burst into flames, before he finally managed to force a response from his throat. "What?"

So maybe it wasn't the most articulate of responses, but it was a start.

Christine couldn't help but grin, pleased at the effect she was obviously having on him, but she tried not to appear too smug as she gestured towards the bathroom with her head. "See for yourself."

Erik was distracted watching the path of a water droplet as it traced down the column of her throat and slowly disappeared in the furrow between her breasts, wanting nothing more than to grab her and follow that same path with his tongue. Clenching his teeth and trying desperately to erase those thoughts from his head, Erik managed to process the fact that she had just spoken to him, and wordlessly stepped around her into the bathroom.

"Erik, this is Octavius. Octavius, Erik," Christine introduced politely, entering behind Erik and peering around his shoulder at the bathtub, although she was careful to keep him positioned protectively in front of her.

Erik raised an eyebrow as he studied the large wolf spider perched calmly on the ledge of the tub. "Octavius?" he questioned in amusement, forcing himself to appear nonchalant despite the fact that every nerve ending in his body was attuned to the feel of Christine's hands clutching at his shoulders as she hid behind him.

"It seemed an appropriate name for a spider," she explained. "Besides, he makes me think of a Roman Emperor, the way he barges in and claims my shower for his own without the slightest shame or fear."

This time Erik's chuckle was sincere, her adorable proclamation distracting him somewhat from his lust. "There _is_ something rather regal and pompous in the way he carries himself," he agreed, playing along easily with her fanciful musings.

Christine smiled brightly at his contribution and couldn't resist the urge to rest her cheek on his shoulder blade while she continued to survey the spider warily.

"Shall I remove Octavius from his newly conquered territory so that you may resume your bath, m'lady?" Erik asked gallantly, emboldened by the way she clutched at him for security.

"I would be endlessly grateful, brave sir. Only… Don't hurt him?"

Erik smiled softly at her, touched by her concern for a creature which she was clearly quite frightened of. "Of course not," he vowed solemnly. Reluctantly, since he was loathe to give up his position as Christine's shield, Erik stepped towards the bathtub and gently coaxed the wolf spider onto his hand, cupping the other hand gently over it to keep him contained.

Christine shuddered at the ease with which he touched the arachnid and gave him a very wide berth as he passed by her out of the bathroom. "Thanks, V! You're my hero," she declared, giving him a beaming smile of gratitude before shutting the door and returning to her shower.

Erik walked dazedly towards the kitchen, which contained the only window in the apartment, and gently deposited the spider onto the ledge outside it.

"I don't know whether to curse you or thank you for that, Octavius," Erik remarked. "God knows I was already having enough trouble controlling myself around her… And now, after seeing that," he trailed off with a groan, burying his head in his hands.

"It's sheer torture being around her most of the time, but it is surely the sweetest torture I have ever had to endure… She's a remarkable creature, isn't she?" he asked, dropping his hands and glancing towards the spider that was still perched calmly on the window ledge. "Being so kind to monsters like us… I wonder if she would show me the same compassion she showed you tonight, if she ever saw behind my mask."

Erik sighed sadly and ran a hand over the hard contours of the mask. "And now I'm discussing my feelings with a spider… A Roman Emperor spider, no less… I truly have gone mad." Slowly, Erik stood and closed the window before retreating to the library to console himself with music. His uncharacteristic peace and content from earlier was chased away with thoughts of what would happen if Christine ever saw his true face.


	22. Chapter 22

**Guarded Hearts**

_All recognizable material is property of Gaston Leroux or Susan Kay_

So, upon reviewing this chapter, I noticed that Erik seems to shift through emotions quite spastically in this, and had I been writing a more emotionally stable character I would probably have had to go in and edit. However, as it is, I'm just going to claim that he is bipolar and leave it at that.

By the way, I've gotten a bit lax in my proofreading, so if anyone notices any mistakes, please feel free to point them out to me. And thanks so much for the wonderful feedback! You guys sustain my muse.

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The piercing beep of Christine's alarm clock, or, as it was more commonly referred to, her arch nemesis, roused her from her peaceful slumber the next morning. Blearily, she slammed her hand down on the snooze button to silence the demonic contraption, only to find that the button had no effect. She tried several more times, to no avail, before deciding to just give up and turn the alarm off, only to discover that the off button didn't appear to be functional, either. With a snarl, she finally resorted to jumping out of bed and yanking the plug out of the socket. When the noise finally ceased, she turned on her heel and marched furiously to confront her bodyguard, who was reading the newspaper calmly at the kitchen table.

"What the hell have you done to my alarm clock?" she demanded, planting her hands on her hips and glaring wrathfully at him.

Erik glanced up nonchalantly, feeling the same thrill he felt at seeing her every morning since she'd taken to sleeping in the shirt he'd loaned her. "I'm sure I haven't the foggiest notion what you are referring to, mademoiselle."

"Oh, don't pull that innocent bullshit on me, V! I know you did something to the buttons!"

"Did I? Well surely whatever nefarious plot you accuse me of can't be _such _a terrible offense. It got you up, didn't it?"

"That's exactly the point! I didn't _want _to get up, damnit!" Christine exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air.

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Were you not planning on going to class today?"

"Of course I was planning on going to class. I was just planning on catching another thirty minutes of sleep beforehand! Damnit, V, you _know _I set my alarm a lot earlier than I actually need to get up so that I'm able to snooze it a few times every morning!"

"You've been snoozing it a lot more than usual, recently."

Christine crossed her arms over her chest with a huff. "I've been a lot more tired than usual, recently. You know I've been staying up after rehearsals to get all of my homework done. So what if I've been taking an extra twenty or so minutes every morning? I need the sleep!"

"You _need_ more than ten minutes to get ready every day," Erik argued.

"Have I been late to a class yet?" Christine asked smugly.

"No, you have not. You have, however, been burned by your coffee because you were trying to gulp it down and tie your shoes at the same time."

"Hey! That only happened the one… okay, two, times!"

"Coffee dangers aside, you've had to practically run to campus on several occasions to avoid being late."

"So? What's wrong with a little exercise? Running is good for you."

"Not when you're running into oncoming traffic," Erik countered dryly.

Christine blushed at the reminder. "Thanks again for grabbing me," she muttered grudgingly.

Erik smirked, knowing he'd won. "You're more than welcome, a_nge_. Now go get ready or else you shall waste all my hard work in getting you up so early."

"Aha! So you admit it! You _did_ sabotage my alarm clock!"

Erik simply met her gaze with a perfectly blank expression.

"I swear, sometimes you are utterly infuriating…" Christine grumbled to herself as she shuffled into the bathroom to get ready. She returned twenty minutes later in a pair of jeans and a bright green cowl-neck sweater that hugged her figure perfectly and made her eyes appear almost turquoise. Erik felt his mouth go dry at the sight.

"Okay, so now I'm dressed in something besides a t-shirt and a hoodie, my hair is actually brushed and down instead of yanked into a ponytail as I'm running to class, and I _still_ have a good half hour before we have to leave… What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

Erik smirked at her snippy remark. Mornings seemed to be the only time that Christine's sunny disposition ever faltered, and for some reason Erik found this irritable side of her to be rather adorable. "To start with, you could eat a real breakfast instead of just grabbing a Pop-Tart as you race out the door," he replied, gesturing towards the plate of bacon, eggs, grits, and hash browns he had set out for her. "And perhaps afterwards you could call your father. You two have been keeping such different hours recently that you've barely gotten a chance to speak to him."

"Oh! I'd almost forgotten! I need to talk to him, anyway!" she exclaimed, running back into her room suddenly and shutting the door behind her. As soon as she was safely barricaded in her room, she grabbed her cell phone and dialed her father's number.

"Hello there, Princess!" Gustave greeted happily. "This is certainly a pleasant surprise. What has you conscious and coherent at this time of the morning?"

"My sadistic bastard of a bodyguard and his freakishly techno-savvy ways…"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Erik disabled the snooze button on my alarm clock," Christine clarified, to which Gustave responded with a booming laugh.

"Did he, indeed? Clever man… Clearly I hired the right person to take care of my daughter."

Christine rolled her eyes, although she was rather inclined to agree with him. "Speaking of Erik, Daddy, I have a favor I need to ask you…"

"Ask away, Princess."

"Well I was just wondering… Are you still friends with one of the managers at the Opera Populaire?"

"Who, Marty? I had dinner with him just a few weeks ago, actually. He had some legal advice he needed to ask me. Why do you ask?"

"What are the odds that you'd be able to get me a couple of tickets to go see _Faust _this weekend? I already checked online, but they're claiming the theatre's sold out…"

"I'd have to check and see, but I doubt it would be a problem," Gustave replied instantly. "I know Marty has a box reserved for himself, but he's a bit caught up at the moment handling the legal trouble I mentioned earlier, so I don't think he'll be using it. Why the sudden urge to see an opera, anyway? You haven't visited the Populaire since you started college."

"I was kind of hoping to take Erik as a thank you for everything he's done for me recently," Christine explained.

"I'm surprised you're still feeling grateful to the man, even after he tampered with your alarm clock," Gustave stated with a chuckle.

"Well I'm admittedly _less _fond of him after that stunt, but I know he only did it out of concern for me, and he does so much else…" Christine trailed off, grinning to herself. "Really, the man is far too nice to me."

"From what you've told me of him, he's probably grateful to have finally found someone he's allowed to be nice to."

Christine glanced down thoughtfully, toying with the hem of her sweater. "You're probably right… But I still think it'd be fun to give him a night out at the opera."

"Oh, I've no doubt it will be," Gustave gently agreed after a moment's pause. "So will you just be needing the two tickets, then, or were you thinking of asking Meg and her new fiancé to come along?"

"Oh! I actually hadn't thought of that, but that's a great idea!" Christine was immediately excited by the prospect, considering how long it had been since she'd last gone out with Meg and Danny. "How about you, Daddy? You're more than welcome to join us. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

"It's very kind of you to invite me along, Princess, but I'm far too swamped at work right now. We're actually about to start trial with Nathaniel Hawkes within the next few weeks."

Christine felt apprehension begin to twist in her gut at the mention of the infamous mob boss whom her father had been building a case against for quite a while. It appeared that they had finally managed to arrest him on something, at last allowing Gustave to take him to court. "Oh," she responded after a significant pause, trying to force enthusiasm into her voice. "That's huge, Daddy! Congratulations on finally catching the bastard on something!"

The response to her less-than-convincing attempt at cheer was a warm, knowing chuckle. "Princess, it's okay. You don't have to act like you're thrilled with the idea of your father making an enemy of one of the most powerful criminals in the country."

"I'm sorry," Christine breathed, giving up her charade instantly. "The work you do is so noble and selfless, and it makes me proud as hell to claim you as my father, but it's also scary as hell thinking about the kind of people you're pissing off on a regular basis…"

"When did you start cursing like this, Princess?" Gustave asked laughingly. "You know, you could at least _pretend_ that we have a normal father/daughter relationship and try to censor your language around me."

Christine rolled her eyes. "Hardly the point right now, Daddy."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I was just trying to make light of the situation."

"Now I see where I get it from," Christine murmured under her breath.

Gustave gave a light chortle in acknowledgment of her remark, but quickly sobered. "Christine, I _promise _you that I have taken just as many precautions for insuring my safety as I have for your own. Our house and my office are fully equipped with security systems, and Frank follows me everywhere I go."

"Frank?"

"My bodyguard. One of the best at the D&K Agency, I've been assured."

"Yeah, but not _the _best," Christine couldn't help but tease. "_My_ bodyguard is the 'D.'"

"Yes, well I obviously could not hire_ the _best for myself and leave my daughter with any less. What sort of father would that make me?" Gustave chided playfully.

Christine sighed. "Just promise me that you'll stay safe?" she pleaded.

"You have my word."

"And it's a tribute to your character that the word of a lawyer means so much to me," Christine joked reflexively, her mouth twisting up in a half-hearted smile.

"Well, you know me. Father first, soulless, blood-sucking leech second," Gustave joked, managing to coax a giggle from his uncharacteristically somber daughter. "By the way, I emailed Marty earlier while we were talking-"

"Nice to know I had your undivided attention-"

"And he just sent me a reply. Apparently he would be more than happy to loan you the use of his box on Saturday night."

"Thanks, Daddy. I owe you one."

"I'll add it to the list. Right after paying for ice-skating lessons when you were twelve and, you know, giving you life."

"Boy, that list is getting long…"

"Love you, Princess."

"Love you, too, Daddy." Christine hung up reluctantly, depositing her cell phone back in her pocket as she exited her bedroom.

"Well, now that your breakfast is sufficiently cold…" Erik quipped dryly when she made her way back into the kitchen.

"How would you like to go see _Faust _with me this weekend?" Christine abruptly asked, completely disregarding his remark.

Erik blinked in obvious surprise. "I… You want to go to the opera?"

"Only if you want to."

Erik still looked slightly shocked, but when he replied his voice held sincere warmth. "I would be delighted."

"Good," Christine declared happily, though her smile looked a bit forced. She sat down across from him at the table and proceeded to attack her breakfast with unusual hostility.

Erik eyed her worriedly. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she quickly dismissed. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, either you are upset, or those hash browns have done something to personally offend you."

"What are the odds of you believing the latter?"

"Christine…" he chided patiently.

"Oh, fine." Christine reluctantly paused the assault on her breakfast and met Erik's concerned gaze. "I just got through talking with my dad, and he mentioned that they're about to take this really powerful criminal to trial…"

"Ah, the Nathaniel Hawkes case?"

Christine raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Yeah. How'd you know that?"

Erik merely smirked and tapped an article on the front page of the newspaper folded up beside him.

"Oh… Right," Christine muttered sheepishly.

"You know, _ange_, considering your father's position, you'd think you would have a more vested interest in keeping up with the news."

"Actually, V, Daddy's job is why I tend to avoid news sources like the plague. It's so much easier to pretend I have nothing to worry about when I don't know any specific details of what he's up to."

Erik studied her surreptitiously as he took a sip of his coffee. "Are you sure that's a healthy way to deal with your anxieties?"

"Healthy?" Christine scoffed. "Of course not. But it's far preferable to sitting here freaking out and mutilating a plate of perfectly good hash browns."

When Erik, his eyes still narrowed in concern, opened his mouth to speak again, Christine quickly bolted up and cut him off. "Oh, hey, time to go. Thanks for breakfast!" she rushed, gathering her stuff and running out the door before Erik even had time to set his coffee cup down.

"Guess that conversation's over with, then…" Erik remarked sardonically. With a sigh, he donned his jacket and followed Christine out of the apartment at a much more subdued pace.

ECECECECECECECECECECEC

"A double-date with you and Erik? Sounds great!"

Christine, who had just informed Meg of the tickets she had procured for the four of them, glared at her best friend for her word choice. Erik couldn't help but notice, though, that she did not bother to correct her.

"You could have just talked to me about tickets, though. You know my mother is the head dancer instructor at the Populaire."

Christine shrugged. "Yeah, but my dad knows one of the managers. He loaned us his box for the night."

"Ooh… Box seats? I take it back. You did good to go through your dad's manager friend. Mom's much lower down the totem pole and could probably have only managed some fairly crappy seats. "

"Speaking of your mother, will she be happy to know you're finally going to see some of her work?" Christine asked, using Meg's shoulder to balance as she lifted her leg above her head to stretch it out. "I assume she's been trying to recruit you to join her ballet company as soon as you graduate."

Meg waited until Christine lowered her leg before mirroring her action, although her leg went nearly vertical, causing Christine to eye her enviously. "Honestly, I think my mom is still secretly hoping that I'll change my mind at the last second and decide to go back to school to become an astrophysicist or something."

Christine snorted. "Seriously? An astrophysicist?"

"Yep, or a neurosurgeon or something of the sort. Barring that, though, I think she'd be quite happy if I joined the Populaire's ballet corps. Danny's actually even shown some interest in auditioning for their orchestra."

"Aww. Wouldn't that be adorable?" Christine teased. "The two of you working together at the same opera house…"

Meg rolled her eyes, swatting Christine lightly on the shoulder.

"So, speaking of Danny Boy, think he'll say yes to our Opera outing?"

"Of course! That's one of the perks of dating a performance major. He actually enjoys symphonic concerts and operas and musicals and all the things most of my exes would never have been caught dead going to."

"That's because most of your exes fell into the category of stereotypical meat-headed jocks who you only agreed to date because of their washboard abs," Christine remarked sarcastically.

"Okay, fair point…"

"Lucky for you, you finally managed to find a guy who has both culture _and _sexy abs."

Meg grinned devilishly. "I am pretty lucky, huh? And smart for grabbing him up while I had the chance. It's pretty rare to find a guy like that," she declared, staring pointedly at Christine. The blonde narrowed her eyes warningly at her friend, her glare communicating that she fully understood Meg's subtle implications, and also threatening that it would be wise to let the subject drop immediately.

"So, want to go shopping tonight for dresses to wear to the opera?" Meg asked, changing the subject abruptly. "You said that Saturday is Faust's opening night, so swanky attire is a must."

"Sounds fine to me, but only if you promise that we will _only _be visiting dress shops, and the instant both of us find dresses we like, we quite shopping. My attention span for retail is only a very small fraction of yours, Meg Giry."

"Ugh, fine," Meg grudgingly agreed. "This is what I get for being best friends with the daughter of a single dad…"

Christine merely grinned at her frustrated friend as they left the corner of the room they had been chatting in to take their places for class.

ECECECECECECECECECECECEC

"Sure you can handle this?"

Erik spared a scathing glance for the worried blonde walking beside him. "I once fought a group of twenty knife-wielding men by myself with nothing but a rope to protect me, and I came out of that alive. I think I can handle a quick trip into the mall."

"_Twenty_ men? Jesus, Erik, why do you tell me stuff like that?" Christine exclaimed, horrified.

"I'm sorry. Does it disturb you to be reminded of how much blood I've spilled throughout my life?" Erik asked darkly, causing Christine to narrow her eyes at him.

"No, idiot, it disturbs me to hear about all of the terrible things people have put you through in your life!" she hissed. "Now what's up with you? You were in a perfectly normal mood on the way over here, and now that we're actually in the mall you're Mister Doom and Gloom."

Erik sighed, finally dragging his cold yellow gaze away from the crowds of people milling past him, most of them pausing to give his mask suspicious glances. "My apologies… It's just that public places make me rather… tense."

Christine placed her hand on Erik's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze, though it felt more like squeezing steel than muscle and flesh. "I think 'tense' is an understatement, V. Are you sure you're up for this? I can always just order a dress online or something…"

"Enough, Christine," Erik declared, jerking away from her touch. "I assure you I will be fine. Believe it or not, I've been forced to frequent malls and other such hellish places on plenty of occasions throughout my time as a bodyguard. I'm just usually not quite so conspicuous…" He darted another nervous glance around to all of the stares he was receiving as they walked.

Christine winced guiltily, trying not to show how hurt she had been when Erik rejected her touch. "I'm sorry, V… I didn't realize. If that's the problem then you should just go back to your usual habit of sneaking around in the shadows. Forget I said anything about wanting you as a shopping buddy."

"I said I'm fine," Erik growled. "And I would appreciate it if you would just leave me be instead of acting like I'm about to snap at any moment and murder everyone within this mall."

"What? Erik, that's ridiculous! The only reason I'm b-"

The venomous look that Erik shot her was enough to silence Christine's protests.

"Fine. Whatever. Think what you want… Let's just go find Meg and Danny," she muttered, crossing her arms angrily and stomping a few paces ahead of her irritable bodyguard.

Erik was too focused on fighting back his panic to pay attention to the fact that his biting remarks had upset her. Being the focus of so many curious stares always brought about flashbacks of his past, crowding his mind with the repulsed grimaces of people leering at him through the bars of his cage and the malicious grins of Siavash's men as they swarmed him. Despite the fact that most of the people studying him in the mall held only innocent curiosity in their gazes, he could not help the way his body tensed as if expecting an attack at any moment, nor could he fully control the fear-induced rage that threatened to overtake him.

Christine, oblivious to the internal turmoil Erik was dealing with, replaced her irritated scowl with a wide smile as she caught sight of Meg and Danny standing in front of the Starbucks in the food court. Meg returned the smile, wordlessly handing Christine a caramel macchiato as soon as she was within reach.

"They even got the no whipped cream part right, this time," she remarked as she watched Christine take a careful sip of the liquid.

"Aw, thanks, Meg. This is really nice of you! I'm still not going shoe shopping with you, though."

"Damn," the brunette cursed, snapping her fingers. "Oh well, it was worth a shot. Here, Erik," she continued, taking another cup from Danny and handing it to the silent bodyguard. "Yours is just intended as a nice gesture, not a bribe. Christine mentioned once that you usually drink coffee so strong the bag comes with a Hazmat symbol on it, so I just got you the strongest one on the menu."

Erik blinked in surprise, reaching out slowly to take the cup from her. "_Merci_…" he murmured after a pause, lapsing into French without even noticing. His previous haze of paranoid anxiety was cleared slightly by the shock of her unexpectedly considerate gesture. To most people, a three dollar cup of coffee wouldn't seem like that big of a deal, but to Erik it signified that he was considered an actual part of the group, not just an ominous shadow following Christine about, and that was a feeling he felt he would never entirely get used to.

"So I know we've technically met before," Daniel began nervously, interrupting Erik from his surprised contemplation of the coffee, "but I feel like we should be properly introduced. You know… Now that you're not calling me a spineless, weak, pathetic excuse for a man and looking at me like you want to throttle me."

His words caused both Meg and Christine to fight down giggles, but Erik simply met his gaze stoically.

Daniel seemed less than reassured by the dark look still lingering in the masked man's golden eyes, but he managed to hold his hand out and smile bravely. "I'm Daniel. Or Danny Boy, as these lasses are so fond of calling me."

Christine bit her lip worriedly when Erik's only response was to eye Daniel's hand suspiciously, remembering the first time she'd tried to shake his hand and how disastrously that had ended. Relief flooded her when Erik finally moved to return the handshake, and she was reminded that he was wearing his typical pair of black, fingerless gloves, and therefore wouldn't have to have much actual contact with Daniel's skin. Christine always liked to mock him for those gloves, telling him that she never could decide whether he looked more like a wannabe member of Judas Priest or of the Hell's Angels, but this was the first time she realized that he might insist upon wearing the gloves in public for situations just like this, allowing him to conceal his corpse-like chill from everyone.

"Erik," the subject of Christine's musings finally returned as he clasped Daniel's hand briefly within his own. "Or _Le Fantome_, as these two have started calling me ever since that slight mishap with Mademoiselle Guidicelli."

"You mean the _slight _mishap where you almost crushed her skull with a fifty pound backdrop?" Christine asked sardonically, eyeing Erik skeptically as the foursome exited Starbucks and began to wander around the mall. "And technically it was some of the other dancers who started up the thing with the ghost. Meg made that one comment after it dropped, and suddenly every mysterious noise or pair of Pointe shoes that's gone missing over the years is all because of the school's resident specter."

Erik raised an eyebrow, although Christine was the only one who knew him well enough to recognize the expression with most of his face hidden away behind the mask. "Yes, and the two of you did absolutely _nothing_ to encourage their silliness," he remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Well… The idea was already in their heads by this point. We just crafted a bit of a backstory for you," Meg explained innocently.

"That I am the tortured soul of some deformed genius from 18th century France who used to lurk in the depths of the Paris Opera House, hiding away from all humanity, until I one day fell in love with an orphaned chorus girl with the voice of an angel and left my isolation so I could teach her to sing and convince her to fall in love with me, despite my wretched appearance?" A corner of Erik's mouth pulled upwards in his signature crooked smirk, although this one seemed more resentful than amused. "It's quite the story, mademoiselles. I am impressed by your creativity."

Christine shifted guiltily. "To be fair, we only said that you were masked, but some of the other girls decided that mask plus complete isolation from the world had to equal hideous disfigurement."

"Or perhaps hideous disfigurement must equal mask and complete isolation from the world?" Erik shot back quietly.

Meg and Daniel looked away awkwardly, both feeling like this was too personal a moment to be witnessing in a man they'd spent very little time with. Christine, though, held no such qualms, and met Erik's cold yellow eyes searchingly.

"V-"

"So what kind of ending have the two of you crafted for my tragic tale?" Erik interrupted. His deceptively light voice was at contrast with the darkness brooding in his gaze. "As of now, much to your classmates' distress, it remains unfinished."

"Um… We're not really sure yet," Meg stated awkwardly after Christine refused to respond, too busy studying her bodyguard with obvious worry.

"Well surely it would have to be a tragic ending, for what else could have turned me into a ghost? Oh! I know. A handsome young nobleman falls in love with my pupil, and I, in a fit of jealous rage, kidnap her and try to force her to marry me. Then her valiant suitor will play the white knight and ride in at the last second to slay the villain and rescue the heroine. That's how fairytales are supposed to end, yes?"

"Only this isn't a fairytale, Erik. It's a ghost story, and Meg and I would never think of something with such a predictable, not to mention unsatisfying, ending!" Christine chided defensively.

"Oh?" Erik mocked. "What sort of ending _would_ you think of, pray tell?"

Christine pretended to tap her chin in thought, her jaw tightened in irritation at Erik's condescension. "How about, the chorus girl realizes that the ghost only kidnapped her because he is so desperate not to lose her, and she, who has fallen in love with him for his voice and his genius and the infinite kindness he has shown her, gladly chooses to stay with him. The ghost, however, in his infuriating cynicism and self-loathing, assumes that she has only agreed out of pity, or perhaps to save the nobleman who has foolishly burst in to try and rescue her, and forces her away. Then he dies of a broken heart because he was too stupid to accept the fact that someone was capable of caring about him." Christine stared pointedly at her stunned bodyguard for several moments, before suddenly seeming to realize everything she had just said and jerking her eyes away guiltily. "Or, you know, he dies in a freak fishing accident in the underground lake," she joked lamely.

"But that means that his ghost would always have to smell slightly of fish," Meg interjected quickly, latching on eagerly to Christine's attempt at lightening the mood. "The other dancers would stop believing our story!"

Christine shot her a grateful look for helping with the abrupt subject change. "Unless we started bathing Erik in fish oil every day! Then it would add to our credibility!"

Erik, who, up until this point, had been staring wordlessly at Christine in complete shock, finally came out of his trance. "That idea, aside from being rather revolting and probably quite unsanitary, would no doubt lead to some rather disastrous consequences with Ayesha," he joked, covering the emotional turmoil Christine's outburst had placed him in with amusement. "I've grown rather fond of your cat, _ange_. Kindly refrain from doing anything that will tempt her to try and eat me."

Christine, relieved to have somehow broken him out of his dark mood, shot him a dazzling grin. "Fine, fine. Dying of a broken heart, it is. I suppose that will go over better with our friends, anyway. Oh! Dress shop!" she called excitedly, latching onto Erik's arm and dragging him into the store. Meg quickly mirrored her action and marched herself and her fiancé in after them.

"Okay, you boys are not allowed to see us in our dresses until the night of the opera," Meg declared imperiously. "So you fellas can go commandeer those chairs in the corner and have Man Time while we try on dresses." And with that, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the racks of dresses, Christine following after shooting a parting wink to the guys.

"So… Man Time. What do you think that involves, exactly?" Daniel asked conversationally as he and Erik followed instructions and took their places in the armchairs Meg had pointed out to them.

Erik dragged his eyes away from the direction Christine had just disappeared in. "My first guess would be pounding our chests and circling around a fire, but seeing as that is likely to get us kicked out, perhaps we can settle for talking about American football?"

Daniel snorted in amusement. "Not actually a fan of American football, me," he replied. "Personally, I've never understood why they call it football when the players spend most of their time holding the ball."

This time it was Erik's turn to snort. "Perhaps for the same reason they still haven't converted to the metric system?"

"Just to piss off the rest of the world?" Daniel asked lightly.

"_Exactement_."

ECECECECECECECECECEC

"So, I take it you've made up your mind about Erik, then, huh?" Meg asked dryly as soon as the girls entered the privacy of the dressing room.

Christine whipped her head around from the dresses she had been hanging up, staring at her best friend in surprise. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"That whole spiel about the ghost story. With the falling in love and the 'too stupid to realize someone cares about you' stuff!"

Christine, avoiding eye contact with Meg under the pretense of slipping into a dress, shrugged nonchalantly. "What can I say? I get a bit carried away when I make up stories."

"Oh, cut the crap, Chris. It's totally obvious that you were talking about you and Erik, not that stupid ghost story."

"What? Meg, that's ridiculous! What makes you think…" She trailed off at the thoroughly unimpressed look on the brunette's face. With a sigh, she hung her head in defeat and asked meekly, "How obvious, exactly?"

"Well, the woman working the window at the Cinnabon looked like she was rooting for you two. But Erik mostly just looked confused, if that's what you're asking."

Christine released a deep sigh, though whether it was of frustration or relief, she wasn't really sure. "That sounds like Erik. The poor man is completely oblivious when it comes to women."

"Yeah, I'd kind of gotten that impression from him." Meg helped Christine zip up the dark purple dress she'd just put on. "When you said a few weeks ago that Erik had very little relationship experience… Exactly how 'little' are we talking?"

"Err… Well…" Christine smoothed her dress down nervously. She was torn for a moment over whether she would feel guiltier for betraying Erik's confidence, or for lying to her best friend, but in the end her inherent honesty won out. "None, actually."

Meg's jaw dropped. "_None_? As in… None, none?"

"Unless you know of any other meanings to the word," Christine quipped.

"So your masked man is still a virgin?"

Christine purposefully entangled herself in the dress she was slipping off simply to avoid responding to Meg's shocked query.

"Has he ever kissed someone, at least?"

Her awkward silence was answer enough.

"Hugged someone? Held hands?"

"Yes. But never before he met me. Now what do you think of this dress?" Christine turned to let Meg survey the gown she had managed to struggle into by herself.

Meg, though distracted by her revelation of Erik's inexperience, had such an eye for fashion that she popped out a ready answer with only a moment's observation. "Pretty, but it's too loose around your bust. You'd be paranoid about popping out all night."

"One of the disadvantages to actually having boobs," Christine lamented, to which Meg scoffed.

"Oh, don't start that, Chris. I would kill to have your boobs."

"And I would kill to have your ass. We've been over this. At least they invented push-up bras for your problems."

"Hm, true," Meg agreed, adjusting just such a bra to better situate her breasts in the strapless gown she had just tried on. Then, turning to Christine with a wicked smirk, she teased, "Too bad no one's invented a pair of jeans that will help you out, Pancake Butt."

"Hey! No fair!" Christine cried indignantly. "I thought you agreed not to use any embarrassing secrets you learned from my sleep-talking against me!"

"Well I've changed my mind. Considering how many times it woke me up freshman year, I may as well get some use out of it, now."

Christine's only response was a glare in the mirror at Meg's reflection, and the girls spent the next few minutes in silence interrupted only by the rustle of silk and tulle.

"So… Thirty something years old and he's never even been kissed before… That's…"

"Yeah," Christine sighed.

"I'm starting to understand why you've been denying your feelings so much on this. I mean… If anything _did_ actually happen between y'all, it would have to be a huge deal to him…"

"Exactly. And I'm not so sure I can handle that kind of pressure. You know what my attention span for men is like. I may feel something for Erik right now, but what happens when my feelings suddenly change? After everything that man has been through, I couldn't stand to give him false hope and then just rip it away because I'm fickle and afraid of commitment."

Meg contemplated this statement as she returned a rejected dress to its hanger. "Normally I would agree with you on that. But after seeing you with Erik the day that Danny proposed… I don't know, Chris. You seem different with him. Maybe you shouldn't be so quick to assume that your feelings for him are just as fleeting as for every other guy you've dated."

For a moment, Christine allowed herself to thoughtfully absorb this information, but she quickly pushed it away and declared, "This conversation is taking for granted the fact that Erik actually returns any of my feelings, confused though they are. And seeing as I'm quite convinced this isn't the case, it's pointless to talk about this anymore, anyway."

Meg, sensing that Christine had reached the absolute limit of deep emotional discussion that she could handle during the course of a day, wisely kept her responses to herself.

"Now then," Christine continued when she was assured of Meg's allowing the subject to drop. "What do you think of this one?" She did a slow turn so that Meg could observe her gown to its fullest effect.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I believe we have a winner!" Meg declared, clapping her hands together. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she couldn't help adding, "If there really _are_ any doubts as to Erik's affection for you, there certainly won't be after he sees you in _that_…"

The only response Meg got was a reproachful look that just barely masked Christine's smug grin. The two girls then turned their full attention to finding Meg a dress, settling finally on a one-shouldered, backless gown of emerald green silk. Once they were both satisfied, they returned to the men and prepared to check out.

* * *

Next up, a night at the opera…


	23. Chapter 23

**Guarded Hearts**

Right, just a warning, this chapter is almost nauseatingly fluffy, but hopefully you'll enjoy it all the same. Thanks to elfinmyth for the inspiration for the rooftop scene! And now, ladies and gentlemen, a night at the opera.

* * *

Saturday evening found Erik and Daniel sitting in the living room of Christine's apartment. They had already changed into their formal attire and were confined to finding ways to amuse themselves while they waited on the girls to emerge from the bedroom where they were getting ready. Daniel was idly flipping through a newspaper, while Erik had been struck by sudden inspiration and had taken to drawing in his long-neglected sketch book.

Finally satisfied by the initial charcoal sketch, Erik took the opportunity to glance at his watch, doing a double-take when he finally registered the time.

"_Mon dieu_, it's been almost two hours! Surely they cannot still be getting ready."

Daniel glanced up in amusement at Erik's shocked exclamation. "You sound surprised, mate. Haven't you gone out with a woman before?"

Erik's eyes narrowed coldly at the question which hit far too close to home, but, seeing nothing but good-natured amusement on the man's countenance, he attempted to reign in his temper. "I've never known Christine to take more than twenty minutes to get ready for class, and even when she dressed for a formal dinner at her father's she took less than forty-five."

"Yeah, but that's Christine. That girl has the attention span of a flea. With her, you're usually lucky if she actually has the patience to blow her hair dry. Meg's different," Daniel explained. "She loves this kind of stuff. I think it comes from growing up backstage at an opera house. Her mother was a dancer at the Populaire, and Meg was raised around all kinds of costumes and wigs and stage makeup. Some people have accused her of being vain for putting so much effort into her appearance every day, but personally I think she just never grew out of her love for playing dress-up."

Erik couldn't help but smile slightly at the overwhelming affection in the man's voice, but he quickly forced himself to sober and pursue his previous inquiries. "Even if Meg is still getting ready, shouldn't Christine have been out here, by now?"

"Nah, she's at Meg's mercy tonight. Foolish girl actually agreed to let Meg do her hair and makeup for her, for once." He paused thoughtfully, shooting a sly glance to his masked companion. "Makes you wonder who she's trying to impress."

Erik started at the knowing tone to his voice, but stubbornly refused to let himself believe the man's implications.

"Are you guys talking about us, out here?" Meg's cheerful voice called from the hallway. The men rose to their feet and turned to survey their respective dates, both appropriately awed by the sight that met them.

Meg's dark, sleek hair had been pulled back from her face in a half-ponytail, the tresses clipped in a delicate barrette of intricately twisted silver. Her emerald dress flowed elegantly down her slender frame to drag the floor, and a slit on one side revealed a glimpse of a toned dancer's calf and a four-inch silver heel.

Though Daniel certainly seemed riveted by the sight of her, Erik barely even registered her presence, as his eyes were glued unblinkingly on Christine.

Christine was wearing a gown of deep blue silk covered in silver beading. The thin straps left her arms fully uncovered, and the neckline plunged in a graceful V down her collar. Elbow length gloves and a pair of teardrop diamond earrings completed the ensemble and made her look much more elegant and womanly than Erik had ever seen her. Finally pulling his gaze from its slow perusal of her body, he was able to admire the work Meg had put in on her hair and makeup.

Her blonde hair was gathered into an elaborate twist at the back of her head, held in place by several bejeweled hairpins, and a few lightly coiled strands were left loose to frame her face. Thick black lashes curved upwards over bright blue eyes whose color had been accented by subtle traces of blue eye shadow, and her full lips glistened with a pale pink gloss. It was these lips that finally held his attention, trapping his gaze as they curved upwards in a shy smile.

"Like what you see, Mr. Draven?" she asked playfully, although the slight flush that graced her cheeks discredited the flippancy of her remark.

Erik had to swallow several times before he was able to make his voice work. "You look… I… Wow," he finally breathed.

"That's exactly the reaction I was going for! And can I just say, you're looking pretty 'wow' yourself."

His opera suit seemed to be made of the finest material and clearly custom-made to fit his tall, muscular frame perfectly. Although the suit was solid black, an intricate pattern embroidered onto the vest managed to give a bit of texture to the ensemble, and with his inky black hair slicked back against his head, he looked every bit the gentleman.

Erik was grateful for her compliment but put no actual merit into it. Years of being called hideous tended to make one skeptical of any compliment to one's appearance.

"You could do with a bit of color, though. Honestly, don't you own anything that isn't black?" Christine chided playfully. Tilting her head to the side thoughtfully, she pursed her lips and studied him before suddenly brightening with an idea. Carefully, so as not to damage the intricate hairstyle Meg had given her, she pulled one of her hairpins out and stepped forward to slide it onto Erik's tie like a clip. She remained standing merely inches from him as she studied the silver pin and blue gemstone glinting against the black silk. "There, now we match," she declared, turning her head up and smiling at her bodyguard.

Erik hoped that she couldn't hear how his heart pounded in his chest at how tantalizingly close her mouth was to his. All he had to do was lean forward just a few more inches…

"So, shall we be off, then?" Meg asked, dragging Christine and Erik's attention away from each other. They quickly nodded their assent, and the foursome set off for the opera house in high spirits.

The ride was spent in friendly conversation, though Erik, who was driving, kept mostly silent and only contributed a sarcastic remark every now and then. His silence made Christine begin to worry that he was regretting his agreement to go with her. This concern only increased as they actually arrived at the Populaire and she noticed Erik immediately tense up and start darting nervous glances at the surrounding crowds.

Although the fedora Erik wore tilted at a rakish angle hid most of his face in shadow, people passing directly in front of him could still make out the mask, and their curious gazes were obviously setting the bodyguard ill at ease.

Christine placed a hand on his arm and cast him a worried glance. "At the risk of irritating you again, I have to ask… Everything alright? You're a bit jumpy."

Erik merely nodded, guilt at the harsh manner in which he had greeted her concerns the other day forcing him to keep his voice calm as he replied, "Although I cannot entirely hide my body's deeply conditioned reaction to large groups of people, I promise that I can control my fight-or-flight response quite well."

Christine idly traced her finger across a long, silvery scar that ran along Erik's jaw. "Something tells me that the 'or-flight' part of that never really applied to you," she muttered under her breath, so quietly that Erik wasn't even sure he was intended to hear it.

Suppressing a shiver brought on by her innocent touch, Erik continued on as if she hadn't spoken. "I'll be fine, _ange_."

"Are you sure? Because I really don't mind if we just leave, or at least wait until the show's about to start so all these people will be cleared out of the lobby."

"Absolutely not," Erik declared firmly. "I'm tired of giving in to all of the people who have called me a freak and a monster over the years. You treat me like a normal man, and so, for you, a normal man I shall be," he proclaimed. He was filled suddenly with a surge of confidence at the way this beautiful woman stared up at him with such concern, not even sparing a glance for the countless people around them who were regarding her masked companion with unabashed curiosity, and many of them with open scorn and contempt.

Christine giggled delightedly as Erik gave her a dramatic, gentlemanly bow and offered his arm out to her. "Oh, no, never normal," she teased, threading her arm happily through his and leaning against his shoulder flirtatiously. "You, sir, are extraordinary."

Erik's only response was to straighten to his full height, his chest filling up with pride. He suddenly found that he didn't mind the crowd of strangers staring and whispering about him. Let them stare! What did he have to be ashamed of, when he had such a woman on his arm?

The foursome settled into their seats, Daniel and Erik watching in amusement as Meg and Christine adopted haughty British accents and jested about how fancy they felt in their box. They soon quieted, though, as the overture started to play to signal the beginning of the show.

As the first act was performed, Erik couldn't keep from darting his eyes over to his companion every few minutes. Christine was clearly wrapped up in the performance, and he guessed that she might be imagining what it would be like for her to be performing on a stage like that. If he had his way, she wouldn't have to wait very long after graduation to find out.

When Erik's attention wasn't claimed by Christine, he was silently compiling a list of critiques of the performance, although nothing too drastic as they were admittedly doing a very good job of it. Despite his internal commentary on the opera, he found that he was genuinely enjoying himself, and when the curtain closed on the end of Act One to signal the start of an intermission, he was in a very pleasant, contented mood.

"V, would you mind escorting me to the bathroom?" Christine asked, rising from her seat as the lights gradually brightened.

"Of course."

Christine glanced at Meg and Daniel as they both stood up. "You guys coming?"

"Nah, I think we're going to sneak backstage and see if we can find my mother," Meg replied.

"Alright, but if we come back here and find you two making out or something, I may throw up on you…" With a parting grin to her friend, Christine laced her arm through Erik's and led them through the bustling lobby to the ladies' room. Erik, unable to do more than wait outside the restroom for Christine to emerge, was left to endure the curious stares of the crowd by himself. Determined not to let his anxieties get the best of him and ruin this otherwise enjoyable outing, he clenched his fists and did his best to disregard the attention he was receiving, although he couldn't, as a bodyguard, allow himself to ignore the crowd entirely. Despite this resolve, though, it wasn't until Christine returned from the bathroom and turned her sunny smile on him that he was able to push down his mounting agitation.

"C'mon," she urged, tugging on his arm and pulling him past the wide, grandiose staircase that led to the upper level seating.

"Where are you going, _ange_? Our box is that way," Erik remarked with an amused quirk of his lips, thinking that she had simply gotten disoriented.

Christine ignored his words, though, and simply continued to lead him onwards with an unconcerned, "I know."

"Then what on Earth are we doing?"

"Exploring."

"I beg your pardon?"

By this point, Christine had steered them away from the bustle of the crowd and into a deserted corridor with only minimal lighting. Erik surveyed her in bemusement as she began to open doors and peek inside of them, only to shake her head and retreat when she apparently found them less than satisfactory.

"And why, exactly, were you struck with the sudden urge to 'explore'?" Erik asked archly, though he continued to follow her obediently.

"I don't know. It just seemed like fun!"

"And do you make it a habit of randomly trespassing in public buildings?"

"Actually, yes," Christine responded distractedly. "Since Daddy was a single parent, he sometimes had to take me to work with him as a kid. I got into the habit of exploring all the different law firms he's worked for, just to keep myself entertained. Now it's kind of become a tradition whenever I go into a big fancy building. You never know what kind of stuff you might find!"

She paused when she came to a sturdy metal door (all the others had been wood) with a sign on the front proclaiming _Authorized Personnel Only_ in threatening red letters.

"Oh, this looks promising. Shall we?" Christine asked happily, turning to smile at her bodyguard.

Erik arched an eyebrow. "Shall we what? Break into some random room for absolutely no reason? It's probably just a broom closet, _ange_."

"A broom closet with an Authorized Personnel Only sign? Are they truly so concerned with the state of their cleaning supplies? Please, V? It'll be fun."

"Breaking and entering?" Erik's unconvinced look showed that he clearly did not share her opinion.

"It's an adventure!" she proclaimed.

"It's a felony," he countered, then continued when Christine's only response was a pout. "We only have fifteen more minutes until the second act, Christine. Why don't we just head back to our seats?"

Christine fixed him with a mischievous smirk. "C'mon, Phantom. Where's your sense of adventure?" she goaded, waggling her eyebrows at him.

"Oh, very well," Erik acceded with a sigh.

Christine giggled with delight and eagerly reached out to pull the door open, only to stop and scowl when it proved to be locked. "Oh, that's just not fair!" she exclaimed.

Erik shook his head in good-natured exasperation and gently pushed Christine to the side. Wordlessly, he pulled something out of his pocket and set to work on the lock, but before Christine could even register what he was using, the lock clicked open and the tool was quickly returned.

"Who the hell brings a lock-pick to an opera?" Christine murmured incredulously.

Erik merely smirked and gave a regal bow, holding his arm out in a stately manner to usher her towards the door. "After you, mademoiselle."

Christine beamed, throwing the door open with a dramatic flourish and revealing a steep, narrow staircase whose point of exit was not visible from their vantage point.

"Ooh, dark, creepy staircase? This looks promising." Christine wasted no time in starting up the stairs, Erik following in her wake once he was sure that the door relocked behind them.

"You know," she began conversationally, her voice echoing in the narrow stairwell. "It seems almost a shame that Nadir brought you over from the dark side. I bet you made one hell of a thief."

Erik's deep, darkly amused chuckle was the only response her comment earned, and they made the rest of their way in silence. When they finally reached the top of the staircase, Erik was forced to pick the lock on yet another door, before it was thrown open to reveal that they had managed to climb onto the roof of the opera house.

"Oh, wow," Christine breathed, turning to her companion with a brilliant smile. "See, this is much better than a broom closet!"

The roof boasted a beautiful view of the city down below, where scenes of traffic and urban life seemed far more romantic at night and from that height than when one is actually walking among them. Freeways became shifting ribbons of light, and skyscrapers that looked stern and imposing from up close were nothing more than beautiful silhouettes whose window lights illuminated random patterns in the distance. Christine, captivated by the sight, eagerly rushed forward to gain a better view, and when Erik registered how close she had gotten to the edge of the roof, he reacted without thinking.

Christine let out a yelp of surprise as she felt a pair of muscular arms wrap around her waist from behind and yank her back against a hard chest. The breath whooshed out of her at the impact, and all she could do was crane her neck around to stare at her captor in confusion.

Erik seemed almost as surprised by his actions as she was, but that didn't stop him from giving her a stern look as she met his eyes. "It's not safe to stand so close to the edge, _ange_."

Christine gave a meek nod in response, but as soon as she turned her head back around, she grinned to herself at his protective reaction. When Erik went to remove his arms from around her, she quickly placed her own arms atop his and leaned back further against his chest. She felt Erik's sharp intake of breath rush past her ear, and her grin widened when, in response to her encouragement, he allowed his hold to tighten possessively.

Christine had never felt so warm and safe in her life, despite the biting wind and the rather significant drop-off mere inches from her feet, and it was this feeling of contentedness that made her finally admit to herself that continuing to fight her feelings would be useless. Now she just had to figure out how to express them to Erik…

"Thank you," the subject of her thoughts murmured softly in her ear.

"For what?" Christine asked bemusedly, keeping her face turned towards the city skyline.

"For tonight. And for everything, really," was his gentle reply. "These past few months… Being with you… You almost make me feel like a normal man."

"Almost?" Christine questioned, her voice giving away none of the excitement she felt at being provided with such an opening to reveal her feelings.

Erik seemed to hesitate in his response, and Christine could feel his arms tighten just slightly around her. "Well… Some things… That is… There are certain aspects of a normal life that I would never presume to… that I know I'll never have."

"Is that so?" Christine whispered. Slowly, she turned in the circle of Erik's arms until she was facing him. Erik gulped nervously as she stared into his piercing golden eyes that had so entranced her the first time she saw him, and for once he was unable to conceal the sheer longing held within them. A corner of Christine's lips quirked up in satisfaction at this obvious confirmation of his feelings, and as she placed her hands against his chest to steady herself, she could feel his heart pounding frantically beneath her fingers.

Erik watched helplessly as Christine rose on her tip-toes and slowly brought her mouth closer to his. He was sure that she had to be playing some kind of cruel trick on him, and it wasn't until her lips actually brushed against his that he finally believed what he had been seeing. A powerful shock jolted through him at the feel of her soft, perfect lips brushing against his thin, corpselike ones, and he couldn't suppress the moan of desire that escaped him.

Christine began to pull back, and at first Erik was afraid that his noise had repulsed her, but the radiant smile with which she gifted him stamped that thought right out.

Erik tried to speak, but his throat was too choked with emotion to force any words out, and he doubted he was in any state of mind to properly express the declarations of gratitude and adoration and fierce, passionate love that were welling up inside of him. To be honest, knowledge of the entire English language (and the five others he was fluent in) seemed to have fled him at that moment.

Christine, oblivious to Erik's linguistic issues, slowly lowered herself from where she'd had to stretch up to kiss him, choosing instead to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down to meet her. Erik was only too happy to oblige her wishes, still barely daring to believe that this was really happening, and he eagerly leaned forward to claim her mouth with his. Despite his eagerness, the kiss remained soft and sweet, Erik moving his lips timidly against hers and Christine gently guiding his exploratory actions. Both seemed as if they would have been perfectly content to continue their kiss for the rest of the night, but a need for oxygen finally drove them to separate.

Erik, breathless and slightly dizzy from wonder, rested his forehead against hers. "_Christine_," he sighed, saying her name as if it was a prayer, but he suddenly realized he had no clue what to say after it.

Christine just smiled softly and brought her hand up to caress the back of his neck. "I've been wanting to do that for a while…"

"Me, too," Erik admitted, causing Christine to giggle. "For a _very_ long time…"

"Oh yeah?" she asked playfully. "How long, exactly?"

"Since I was about twelve, I suppose."

Christine snorted at this response and swatted lightly at his chest. "Not what I was asking, dummy. How long have you wanted to kiss _me_?"

Erik pulled back so he could look at her, reaching a hand out to gently caress her face and push back a wayward curl. "Since the first time you smiled at me."

His admission seemed to have the desired effect on Christine, because she immediately pulled him back down for another kiss.

'_Communication breakdown, it's always the same! I'm havin' a nervous breakdown, drive me insane…'_

Christine pulled back with a groan, and Erik watched in bemusement as she pulled her cell phone out of the top of her dress, where she had stashed it for lack of pockets. A quick glance at the screen showed that she had received a text from Meg.

_Where r u? Show's about 2 start._

She showed the screen to Erik with a giggle. "Guess we lost track of time, huh?"

Erik could merely smile, finding that even after the third time her kisses had not lost any of their potency in robbing him of speech. Christine leaned up for one final kiss before bending down and slipping the silver stilettos from her feet.

"_Ange_? Why are you taking your shoes off?"

"Because I can't run in heels."

"Run?" Erik asked warily. "Why would you-"

"C'mon, we're going to be late!" Christine interrupted, bolting suddenly towards the door.

Erik took off after her immediately. "Christine, wait!"

All he got in response was a laugh and a, "Keep up, Phantom!" thrown carelessly over her shoulder. With a dangerous smirk, he leapt down the remainder of the staircase, landing gracefully in front of a very startled Christine. However, instead of stopping her, he found himself so caught up in her childish antics that he grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the staircase at a run.

The pair ran at top speed through the marble halls of the building, careless of the confused or disapproving stares they received by ushers and straggling audience members still in the lobby. They made it back to their box within less than a minute and entered it breathless and laughing, much to the confusion of Meg and Daniel.

Meg raised an eyebrow at her friend as she collapsed into the chair beside her, silently asking for an explanation. Christine replied with a meaningful smile and a look that said she would tell Meg everything later, and the brunette had to content herself with that and settle in to watch the second act of the opera.

Although Christine appeared to be perfectly absorbed in the performance, Erik didn't register a note of it. He was too busy trying to force his reeling brain to process what had just happened. She had kissed him. She had _kissed _him. _She _had kissed _him_. No matter what inflection he used or how many times he repeated it in his head, the sentence wouldn't make any sense to him. Had he really just been given proof of Christine's affections, the one thing he had so desperately wished for all these months despite thinking it utterly impossible? _Merde, _she had _kissed _him!

His first kiss… And it had been perfect. On the roof of the opera house, with the woman he loved beyond all reason. All his life, he'd been dreaming of that moment, but the reality had turned out to be _so_ much better than anything he had ever imagined… Just thinking about it made him breathless.

Erik briefly made a mental note to ask Nadir about that symptom. Was love supposed to impair the functioning of one's lungs? It hardly seemed fair that the act which required breath support to sustain for an extended period was the very thing that robbed him of it. He would have to work on fixing that next time. Next time? Would there even be a next time?

_Of course there will be a next time, you fool. She kissed you four times within the space of fifteen minutes, and she hardly seems to be suffering from any regrets!_

Yes, but what if she had only meant it as a one-time thing, just to assuage her curiosity or something of the sort?

_Oh, don't be such an idiot. Christine knows that was your first kiss. She is hardly cruel enough to do something she knows is so important to you just to 'assuage her curiosity.'_

Erik had to agree with himself on that point, but the seed of doubt that had appeared in his mind was not so easily silenced, and a thought struck him suddenly that filled him with dread.

What about the mask? Christine may have romantic inclinations for him now, but what would happen when she actually saw his true face?

Erik's internal voice had nothing to combat his fear with, and Erik spent the rest of the night endeavoring not to let Christine see that all of his earlier euphoria had been replaced by terror. He spent the ride home in silence, but Christine seemed to assume that he was simply overwhelmed by the events of that night, and the carefree smiles she turned on him whenever he dared to meet her eyes showed that she was not worried for her bodyguard.

She contented herself with chatting amicably with Meg and Daniel, the topic of conversation centering mostly on how wonderful it would be to work in a place like the Populaire. Their chatter died down as they neared the couple's apartment, and by the time Erik had dropped their friends off and driven them back to Christine's apartment, the girl had fallen asleep.

Erik smiled softly at the sight of her lying in his car so peacefully. Gently, he removed his coat and slipped it around her shoulders to protect her from the chill night air before gathering her in his arms and carrying her to her apartment building. He took the elevator, for once, deciding to brave the creaking, ancient, machine rather than undertaking eight flights of stairs with his current cargo, although it was more concern for jostling her awake with his climb than worry over the strain he would endure that inspired his decision. When he finally reached the apartment, luckily without having encountered anyone along the way, it took some careful maneuvering to unlock and open the door without disturbing Christine, but eventually he managed to get to her room and place her atop the bed without rousing her.

He would have liked to have changed her out of the gown she was wearing so that she did not damage it as she slept, but he certainly did not want to have to explain _that _to her in the morning, so he settled on slipping off her shoes and removing her earrings and gloves before pulling the covers over her. He lingered for a moment, tenderly brushing him thumb along her cheek (which was flushed and held a slight indentation from where she had slept with her face resting against the seatbelt strap), before giving into the temptation and softly pressing his lips against hers once more.

He left the room determined that he would somehow find a way to make things work with Christine, even if that involved wearing his mask constantly for the rest of his life. Christine would never be allowed to see his true face, and therefore she would never have a reason to be repulsed by him. He had never felt such bliss as when she had kissed them, and he was _not _going to give it up now that he had finally discovered it.


	24. Chapter 24

**Guarded Hearts**

_All recognizable characters are property of Gaston Leroux or Susan Kay._

_Sorry that this chapter is so short. It's mostly just a transitory chapter to tie up a few loose ends from the last chapter. And for those of you who are getting antsy because things have been running so smoothly for so long… Well… Try to relax and enjoy this last little bit of calm before the storm. :)_

ECECECECECECECECECECECEC

The wait for Christine to wake up and greet him the next morning felt to Erik like waiting for a jury to announce the verdict on his death sentence. The doubts which had plagued him all night had killed any of the euphoric happiness which their encounter on the roof had inspired. All he had left was a desperate hope which was slowly being stifled by the crippling anxiety that when Christine emerged from her room she would come to her senses and send him away from her forever. Or, at the very least, act as if nothing at all had happened between them.

The sound of her bedroom door being opened sent Erik's heart into his throat, and he quickly buried his head in his sketchbook and plastered an impassive expression on his face, trying to look as if he hadn't been up all night suffering from a schizophrenic fit and arguing with the many different voices of his subconscious.

"G'mornin'," Christine greeted drowsily, stumbling into the kitchen and going immediately to pour herself a cup of coffee.

"Good morning," he returned, wincing at how brittle his voice sounded. He felt his hopes raise a little as he noticed that she had taken the time to change out of her gown and into the button-down she had claimed as her sleep shirt. If she was still wearing his clothing, that was a positive sign, right?

Christine took a big sip of her coffee and shook her head slightly to try and clear the grogginess from it. "How did I end up in my bed, anyway? All I remember is dropping Meg and Danny off, and then I must've fallen asleep."

Erik stared determinedly into his sketchbook as he felt a flush spreading over his features. "I carried you."

"What, seriously?" she exclaimed, obviously surprised. "You carried me up eight flights of stairs?"

"I took the elevator." He kept his voice perfectly composed, even as he analyzed every inflection of every word she spoke for some hint of her feelings.

"Wow. That was brave of you… I know you've never been to Disney World, so you probably won't get the reference, but that thing is sketchier than the Tower of Terror. Next time you should just wake me up instead of braving the scary metal death trap."

Erik nodded mutely, his heart rate picking up noticeably as Christine deposited her, now empty, coffee cup on the counter and began walking towards him.

"All the same, though, it was really sweet of you to carry me to bed like that. I just wish I could have woken up in time to get a goodnight kiss," she murmured coyly, sidling up to him.

Erik's racing heart stuttered at this declaration, and he had to swallow several times to wet his throat before asking nervously, "Would you settle for a good morning kiss?"

A beaming smile met those words, and Christine gently lowered herself onto Erik's lap, much to the masked man's shock and delight, and claimed his lips in an enthusiastic kiss. She pulled back after a moment, Erik unconsciously leaning forward as if he were being magnetically pulled by her lips.

"Good morning," she whispered, her eyes glimmering with mischief.

"Good morning," Erik returned breathlessly. Yes, he definitely needed to figure out this whole lung malfunction thing. Perhaps some more practice was in order…

"So what have you been working on out here?" Christine asked, interrupting his thoughts. She settled comfortably against him with her arms wrapped around his neck and inclined her head towards the sketchpad lying before him.

Erik reluctantly removed one of his hands from her thigh and used it to flip open the book to the page he had been working on before being so pleasantly distracted. The drawing he revealed was a charcoal sketch of a large spider with traces of humanoid features. It was draped in a toga with a laurel wreath crowning its head, and one of its eight legs was brandishing a sword menacingly into the air. The creature's multitude of eyes were all narrowed into a fierce glare, and its mandible was open as if it had been caught in the middle of a war cry.

Christine studied the sketch in shock for a few moments before tossing her head back and howling with laughter. "Wow, Erik! This is amazing!"

Erik smiled shyly, pleased with her obvious approval. "Is it?"

"It's a perfect likeness, wouldn't you say, Octavius?" Christine picked up the sketchpad and held it up to the window for inspection from the spider that sat calmly on its web right outside the glass. Octavius had taken up residence in the windowsill ever since Erik had deposited him there a few weeks ago, and Christine and Erik had fallen into the habit of treating him like a favorite pet, although Christine insisted that the window remain closed whenever she was around. The barrier of glass was necessary for her to feel comfortable around the arachnid.

"I disagree, Emperor!" Christine declared to the creature, supposedly in response to something it had said. "I think Erik's depiction is quite flattering."

Erik, who had gotten used to Christine's imaginary conversations with the arachnid, simply watched her antics with an indulgent smile on his face.

"Octavius claims you've made his thighs look fat."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "By no means. I simply gave him leg muscles suitable for such a fierce warlord, but if he feels that the musculature needs more definition, then tell him I will be happy to oblige."

Christine giggled and gave him a peck on the lips to show her appreciation for his willingness to play along with her antics. "He says that won't be necessary."

Erik grinned and tightened his arms around her, but he pulled back as he saw her leaning in to kiss him again. "Christine… Wait. I… We need to talk."

Her brow instantly furrowed in concern. "Uh oh. That doesn't sound good…"

"No, no. It's nothing like that. I just… I have to ask. What is this, exactly?"

"What is what?" she responded, confused.

"This." Erik gestured between themselves. "Us." When it was clear by Christine's face that she still didn't fully comprehend his meaning, Erik struggled to express his concerns. "You must know, _ange_, that I'd never even been kissed before last night. I don't really understand what's happening right now… Does this… Are we in a relationship now?" he asked, trying to mask the vulnerability and fear in his voice.

Christine smiled gently at him, her hand trailing across his shoulders in a gesture of reassurance. "We are if you want to be, V. I know this is all totally new for you, so I don't expect you to rush into anything if you're not ready."

Erik felt light-headed at her declaration. All he had to do was say the word and Christine was his? This couldn't be real…

"I'm ready."

"Are you sure? Because really there's no-"

"I'm sure. God, Christine, I've wanted this since the first day I met you."

Christine gave a shy grin at this admission. "Right. So, it's official then. We're a couple."

"We're a couple," Erik echoed, his heart feeling as if it would burst with happiness. "But… Ah… What does that entail, exactly?"

"Well, to be honest, before this we practically acted like a couple, already. I mean, we live together, we talk about everything, we bicker over stupid little things like your refusal to let me use any of the appliances in my kitchen… Really, the only drastic change is that now you can kiss me whenever you want."

"Well then we have a problem," Erik murmured, giving into temptation and allowing his lips to brush against the smooth column of Christine's throat. "Because now that I know how good it feels, I'll never want to stop kissing you."

Christine let out moan and pulled Erik's mouth away from her throat so that she could meet it with a slow, sensuous kiss. "Unfortunately, as much as I'd love to sit here and kiss you all day, I have a ten page research paper due tomorrow that I haven't even started on, so…"

Erik sighed in disappointment, reluctantly dropping his arms and releasing her. "So you are enacting your official Procrastination Quarantine and I am not to acknowledge your presence or allow you to leave your room until the paper is complete," he finished for her knowingly.

"Sorry, V," Christine apologized, ruffling his hair affectionately as she hopped out of his lap.

"It's probably for the best, anyway. Nadir mentioned yesterday that he would be dropping by sometime today to discuss a few business matters, so perhaps it's just as well that you won't be out here to distract me."

"Nadir's coming over? Aw, damn. Try not to let him leave until I've finished my paper so I can actually have a chance to visit with him!" she ordered.

"I make no promises."

Rolling her eyes at his noncommittal response, Christine brushed a final kiss to his lips and disappeared into her bedroom to work on her paper.

ECECECECECECECECECECECEC

"Check."

"Damn you, Erik..." With a frustrated huff, Nadir moved his king out of the way of Erik's bishop.

The masked man smirked wickedly but allowed none of his smugness to color his voice as he continued the conversation they had been having. "So, what were you saying about those applicants?"

"Ah, yes. About twenty people applied, but we only really have the resources to hire five. I brought the application forms with me for you to review."

"Nadir, for the thousandth time, you are more than capable of making those decisions for yourself," Erik interrupted. He shifted his knight across the board before glancing askance at Nadir. "Why do you always feel compelled to make me participate in the process?"

Nadir steepled his callused fingers under his chin and studied the board carefully. "Because you own half of this company, Erik. Believe it or not, that requires more responsibilities from you than simply deciding your own salary." After a few more moments' deliberation, he moved his rook forward and captured Erik's knight. "Besides, as impossible as you are to get along with, I like to make sure you have final say over who we hire. That way, when you inevitably develop a deep hatred for about a third of our employees, you have no one to blame but yourself."

"Fine," Erik sighed, glaring at his cheeky friend. "Leave the applications here and I'll look over them later tonight." When he glanced back down at the chessboard, his glare suddenly morphed into a smug smirk, and he leisurely moved his queen over several squares, capturing the bishop that had been Nadir's last defense for his king. "Checkmate."

Nadir bit out several curses in his native tongue as he angrily knocked his king over. "Damn it all, Erik! I don't know why I even bother anymore..."

"Because you are too stubborn to acknowledge my obvious superiority."

"I still hold that things would turn out differently if I were able to go second every now and then, instead of always having to take the offensive," Nadir grumbled, half to himself.

Erik merely cocked his head to the side in obvious amusement. "That is of your own doing, monsieur. I have offered to let you go second on many occasions, but you always reject my offer due to your compulsive need to obey rules and regulations of all kinds. Once a policeman, always a policeman, it seems."

"The white pieces always move first, Erik! That's how the game is played. I just don't see why you feel you must always play as black!"

"Black like my soul, Daroga," Erik responded quietly.

Nadir gave a tired sigh and ran a hand over his face. "Must you always be so depressing? The world is not all black and white, old friend. You need some color in your life."

"_I set out runnin' but I take my time, a friend of the devil is a friend of mine. If I get home before daylight, I just might get some sleep tonight…_"

Both men glanced up in surprise as Christine suddenly danced down the hallway past them, clad in a pair of jeans and a brightly colored, tie-dye t-shirt. She had a pair of headphones around her ears and an mp3 player sticking out of her back pocket, and she continued to sing along happily to the Grateful Dead song as she grabbed a drink out of the fridge and skipped back to her room without sparing either man a glance.

Nadir turned back to his masked friend after a moment, his dark green eyes twinkling with amusement. "I stand corrected. Your life appears to be plenty colorful."

Erik continued to stare at the hallway Christine had just disappeared down. "She kissed me."

A violent series of coughs met that statement as Nadir choked on the wine he had just taken a sip of. "Sh—she _what_?"

"She kissed me," Erik responded bluntly.

"On the lips?"

"Yes."

"Allah, Erik, and you wait until _now _to tell me? I've been here for hours!"

Erik merely shrugged, finally turning his full attention away from the hallway and back to Nadir. "You said you had business to discuss. I didn't want to distract you."

"Being kissed for the first time in thirty-five years by the woman you are desperately in love with warrants distracting me from a business meeting!" Nadir exclaimed adamantly. "When did she kiss you, anyway?"

Erik smiled to himself at the memory. "Last night. On the roof of the opera house. And in the kitchen this morning…"

"This is wonderful, _dadash_!"

"I… I hope it is," Erik agreed hesitantly.

Nadir just scoffed. "Let's not get too excited, now," he remarked sarcastically.

"No, that's not… You misunderstand me, Daroga. I am excited, believe me. I'm _thrilled_! But I'm also terrified."

"Of what?"

Erik ran a hand tiredly over his mask. "I'm so used to being lonely. I've dealt with isolation my whole life, so I know I can handle that… But I've never experienced loss. Hell, I've never been close enough to anyone to actually give a damn if they left, except for you, I suppose, but you're pretty much impossible to get rid of. But… Now, suddenly, I'm given a chance to be with the woman I love, and I am _unbelievably _happy… So what happens when that all gets ripped away from me?"

"Why do you say 'when' and not 'if,' Erik?"

Erik merely raised an eyebrow and gestured towards himself. "It's me, Nadir. If my complete lack of relationship skills does not drive her away, my volatile temper certainly will. And this is all assuming that she doesn't run screaming even before that because she happens to catch a glimpse of my face."

Nadir shot him a disapproving glare. "Would it kill you to be optimistic just once in your life, Erik? You and Christine have been living together for months, now, and you seem like you couldn't be happier together. She knows about your inexperience with women, and she certainly knows about your temper by now. And she even knows about your face, in theory, despite the fact that you haven't shown it to her. Your faults are hardly unknown to her, Erik."

"Logically, I know this," Erik sighed. "But I cannot seem to allow myself to be confident in it. I am too used to rejection…"

"Just be careful not to create a self-fulfilling prophecy and drive her away with your cynicism. No woman wants to be with a man who is just waiting for their relationship to crash down around them."

"I know… I just… I'm still having trouble grasping what woman would want to be with a deformed, mentally unstable murderer with a violent temper and not the first clue how to be in a relationship."

"No woman that I can think of," Nadir agreed easily. "But I know plenty of women who would want to be with a brilliant, talented, successful man with a razor wit and a heart that is incredibly big, no matter how badly he tries to hide it," he countered. "And I'm sure that most of these women would be happy to look past the former traits if it meant they could be with someone who possessed the latter."

"But Christine is so much more than I deserve," Erik murmured in a pained voice. "And I know she has no shortage of men seeking her attention… It is selfish of me to make her have to 'look past' so much."

"You are not _making _her do anything, Erik. She made the decision all on her own, and it is arrogant of you to think you know what she deserves better than she," Nadir sternly chastised.

Erik ducked his head meekly. "I… Yes. You're right. I'm being foolish."

"Of course you are, old friend. You've always been a fool," Nadir returned playfully. "I am merely cautioning you to keep your foolishness to yourself, and not make Christine suffer from your suspicions and fears."

Erik nodded somberly, giving his friend a grateful look for his council. Nadir responded with a grin of brotherly affection, but both men looked away from each other as the sound of footsteps from the hallway drew their attention again.

Christine waltzed into the living room, brandishing a stack of papers in front of her triumphantly.

"Finished, finally! And I'm pretty sure that at least half of it makes some kind of sense!" she crowed, fist-pumping the air before coming to stand in front of Erik, her triumphant grin morphing suddenly into a sweet smile as she gave him her patented 'I am so sweet and innocent and adorable that you must give me everything I ask for' face. "Proofread, please?"

Erik shook his head in feigned exasperation, fighting against the muscles in his mouth that strained to pull upwards into an adoring smile, and held his hand out silently for the paper. Christine deposited it happily, but surprised him by leaning in as she did and placing a quick peck on his lips.

He glanced over and saw Nadir watching the exchange with a smug grin on his face and amusement twinkling in his eyes. Despite the Iranian's lectures on having more confidence in Christine's feelings for him, a part of Erik was still utterly shocked that she willingly gave proof of her affection for him in front of someone else. He had half-way expected for her to be ashamed and insist that they keep their relationship a secret.

As further proof that Christine seemed to go against everything he ever expected, she then proceeded to settle herself comfortably on the floor in front of Erik, leaning against his legs and resting her cheek atop his knee. The masked man only barely managed to restrain himself from giving Nadir a giddy, school-boy grin, and instead contained his reaction to a slight quirking of his lips. He could not, however, keep his left hand from reaching out to play gently with Christine's tousled gold hair while his other hand grabbed a red pen from the coffee table and began to mark the paper she had handed him.

"Christine, darling, you look ravishing this evening," Nadir declared gallantly as soon as the girl turned her attention towards him.

She scoffed and glanced down at her baggy t-shirt and ragged, ink-stained blue jeans. "Hardly. Next time, let me know in advance that you're coming to visit and I'll be sure to dress up for you," she promised with a wink.

Her back was to Erik, so she could not see the look of black, icy fury on his face, but Nadir could, and he couldn't resist from baiting him some more.

"Why wait 'till next time? Go change into a little black dress and I'll take you out for a fabulous evening of dinner and dancing while I try to sweep you off your feet."

Christine let out a melodic giggle, completely oblivious to the seething rage that their interaction was conjuring up inside Erik. "If only you had made your offer before this year, I would have happily accepted. Alas, though, I have already been swept." The affectionate hand she placed on Erik's thigh startled him so much that he forgot he was angry.

"Beautiful creature, you break my heart!" Nadir teased, clutching a hand to his chest. "Are you sure I cannot steal you away?"

Christine laughed at his theatrics, but her only response was to nuzzle even further into Erik's legs and wrap her arms around his calves in a possessive hug, causing his heart to stutter wildly in his chest. The thought of any woman, least of all Christine, wanting to lay claim to him was completely mind-boggling.

Nadir gave him a smug grin and an obvious 'I told you so' look, and even though Erik knew the Iranian had only been flirting with Christine to mess with him, and possibly to prove a point, that didn't stop him from laying a large, callused hand firmly on her shoulder and pinning Nadir with a glare so full of possessive avarice that he may as well have branded her, his golden eyes blazing and clearly proclaiming one word: _Mine._


	25. Chapter 25

A/N *cowers face in fear* Please, please, my beautiful readers… Don't hurt me? I know I am the worst and most despicable of all writers in the history of writing but… be gentle? See! I posted another chapter! Albeit a short one. I mostly wanted to get it out there in a show of good faith that I have not abandoned this story, for all that my year long absence might have made it appear so.

On a slightly less pleading note, I wanted to thank all of my AMAZING reviewers who have kept me determined, even through my massive bought of writer's block, to continue with this story. Your encouragement has been wonderful. And I promise to try and be more punctual on my updates from now on.

ECCECECECECEC

Christine shifted restlessly in bed, trying in vain to find a position comfortable enough to allow her to drift off to sleep. Alas, though, the bed which had serviced her faultlessly throughout the two and a half years she had inhabited the apartment suddenly seemed lumpy and misshapen. By the time she found herself wrapped in an impenetrable cocoon of comforter and sheets, she finally acceded that perhaps it was her current state of mind, not the bed, which was keeping her from sleep. Even the soft, sweet crooning of the violin that drifted through the apartment was not enough to soothe her distressed mind. She therefore resolved to track down the creator of such beautiful sounds, in the hope that he would have more luck. Provided, of course, she could extract herself from the chaotic tangle of bedclothes and limbs she had somehow formed.

Eventually, with the help of her dancer's flexibility and several vicious, impressively creative curses aimed at the comforter, she managed to regain her freedom. Reaching out to pick up the cat that was curled as far away from her as the bed would allow, clearly displeased with the restless shifting she had been forced to endure, Christine gently gathered it into her arms and crept silently to the library. She halted in the doorway and studied the scene before her with soft, sapphire eyes.

Erik had his eyes closed and his head bent over a violin as he coaxed a beautiful melody out of the instrument with expert fingers. The candles that he had lit in lieu of turning on the overhead light cast flickering glows that danced over his pale skin and the glossy black silk of his hair. No playful dance of light and shadow was reflected by the matte-black finish of his mask, however, and Christine found her eyes drawn to it by the contrast. The corners of her mouth twisted downwards as she speculated on what secrets lay behind the hard leather covering, and whether he would ever trust her enough to show her.

Pools of liquid gold suddenly interrupted the black expanse of Erik's face as he opened his eyes, and the peaceful melody he had been weaving came to an abrupt halt when he finally noticed his audience.

"Did I wake you, _mon ange_? I'm sorry. Usually you can sleep through anything. Had I known you-"

Christine stepped swiftly towards him and silenced his apology with a kiss. Pulling back, she could not help but smile at the slightly dazed expression on his face.

"You didn't wake me, V. I just couldn't sleep."

Erik set his violin carefully back into its case before settling into the armchair and holding his arms out hopefully. Christine responded immediately, curling up on his lap with Ayesha still cradled in her arms.

"What's the matter?" Erik ran soothing fingers through her tousled gold hair. "Are you nervous about the performance tomorrow?"

Christine shook her head slightly and nuzzled even further into Erik's arms. "No, m'not nervous. I've never really had an issue with stage fright. Daddy says it's because I'm too cocky to be worried about screwing up." The warmth in her voice as she relayed this observation told Erik that the man had obviously just been teasing her.

"If not nerves, then what is bothering you?"

"It's nothing, really. Just a stupid… Nevermind. Don't worry about it."

"Christine," Erik coaxed, using the full force of his otherworldly voice to persuade her.

"I'm sad," she admitted with a sigh, helpless to resist the midnight silk of his voice. "And frustrated. I know I acted like I was fine dancing in _Carmen_, but this whole time I guess I've secretly been holding out hope that Carlotta would… I don't know, suddenly win the lottery and move to Hawaii? Or lose her voice in some kind of freak accident or something."

Erik stayed silent for a moment, a calculating gleam passing through his eyes that Christine failed to notice, her face being buried in his shoulder. "There's still time, _ange_. No need to give up hope just yet. Stranger things have happened," he murmured, staring at the girl and cat cradled in his arms as if he could not quite believe they were real.

Christine snorted derisively, though she felt so contented curled up in Erik's lap that the sound came out with less venom than she had intended. "Opening night is tomorrow, V. Unless Carlotta suddenly contracts some kind of terrible illness, it's looking pretty hopeless."

Erik merely tightened his hold on her and gave an enigmatic smile. "You never know…"

ECECECECECECECECECECECECECEC 

"She _what_?"

Christine's stunned exclamation echoed sharply through the apartment, causing Erik to glance up from the song he had been composing.

"But I just saw her a few hours ago! She was perfectly fine during class, and I-" There was a pause as she listened to whoever was on the other end of the phone. "Of… Of course. When do you need me to—Now? Alright. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. See you then."

Several moments of silence preceded the sounds of her rushing towards the library.

"What was that about?" Erik asked as the flustered girl burst in on him.

"That was Professor Woods calling. Apparently Carlotta's come down with some kind of stomach virus or food poisoning or plague or something. They're taking her to the hospital right now, and they need me to head down to the school so they can adjust all her costumes to fit me."

"That's wonderful, _ange_!" Erik exclaimed jovially, though his smile quickly faded to a frown as he studied Christine's concerned expression. "Isn't it?"

"Well, yeah, of course it is! But it's also _really _freaky, isn't it? I mean, just last night I was wishing she'd get too sick to perform today, and now suddenly she's being rushed to the hospital." Christine rang her hands together nervously. "I know it's silly, but it feels like I put some kind of voodoo curse on her or something! And how awful would it make me to get all excited over someone else's misfortune, anyway?"

Erik, who had previously been tensed with worry, relaxed and gave the distressed girl a gentle smile. "You have every right to be excited over the opportunity you have been presented with. You had nothing to do with Carlotta's illness, and thus there is absolutely no cause to feel guilt over it. Besides, as cruel as that wretched harpy is to you on a daily basis, I am surprised you can find it within your heart to feel any sort of remorse or compassion for her. Your kindness is rather staggering sometimes, you know."

Christine blushed and ducked her head. "I wouldn't go so far as to say that. Besides, it's actually my absence of compassion that's worrying me. I'm feeling guilty for not feeling guilty, if that makes any sense."

"Not in the slightest. But then, you have always been rather unfathomable to me."

Christine laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. "It's all part of my charm, you see. But oh! We need to leave now or they'll never finish the alterations in time for the show!" she called suddenly, turning and rushing out of the library towards the door.

Erik followed her at a slightly more sedate pace. "_Ange_, you've forgotten your shoes again," he observed patiently.

"I left my Pointe shoes in my locker in the studio," she replied absently, grabbing her keys and opening the door.

"I wasn't talking about your Pointe shoes. Look at your feet."

Christine glanced down to see that she was wearing nothing but a pair of blue fuzzy socks. "Ah, drat! It's always something…" she muttered. "Hurry up, then!" she called to her clearly amused bodyguard, hopping out the door as she struggled to slip a pair of tennis shoes on.

Erik buried a laugh at her expense and followed her obediently out the door.


	26. Chapter 26

A/N Thank you guys sooooo much for the amazing reviews I've been getting! I really appreciate the continued support despite my horrid flakiness. And in return, a new chapter after only a week or two!

"So, what do you think?" Christine asked as she entered her empty dressing room.

Erik dropped gracefully from the ceiling in the corner of the room, coming to stand behind her and study her in the vanity mirror. "It's a bit… disconcerting."

She smirked and reached up to adjust the wig of artfully disheveled raven curls that had been affixed to her head, winking at him with chocolate brown eyes. "What? You don't like me as a brunette?" she asked teasingly.

"I'm a traditionalist, apparently. I seem to prefer blondes."

Christine laughed and sat at the vanity to start applying her stage makeup. "The wig I was expecting, but I must admit I was surprised when they had the colored contacts on hand. There wasn't much they could do for my Swedish pallor, though." She dashed a generous amount of bronzer onto her cheeks, even as she said this. "At least Carlotta looked the part," she muttered under her breath.

"Her Italian coloring may have lent itself well to the part of a Spanish gypsy girl, but that is the _only_ way in which she was more suited for the role. Her attempts at playing the part of a seductress were truly quite painful to watch. Carlotta clearly has little experience flirting with men. No doubt she just yells at and berates them until they agree to go to bed with her."

Christine let out a giggle, pausing in her application of eyeliner to give him a reproachful look. "Erik! The girl is ill! You're not supposed to mock people while they're unwell!"

Erik spread his hands out in defense. "I was merely remarking upon a fact, _mon ange_. It is not my fault if your wicked sense of humor chose to find some amusement from it."

A knock on the door interrupted their teasing. "Ten minutes to curtain, Chris," a voice called out, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps signaling their retreat even before Christine could give an acknowledgment of the message.

She quickly applied the finishing touches to her makeup and disappeared behind the changing screen in the corner of the room to get into costume.

Erik noticed that her breaths had become quicker and shallower in the wake of the stage manager's announcement. "Is everything alright, _ange_?"

"Huh? Oh, of course. I just… You know how I told you last night that I don't get stage fright? Apparently I spoke too soon. I mean, I've performed in shows these past few years with no problem. But back then I wasn't the lead, and I was able to practice the same role every day, not spend most of my time learning dancing and choreography and occasionally getting some practice time in as Carmen. I feel seriously under-rehearsed," she explained nervously.

"Nonsense," Erik's voice remarked briskly from behind the screen. "I've made sure that you know the songs backwards and forwards, and you are perfectly competent in the blocking and dialogue. I've seen you at rehearsals, _mon chere_. Even with a minimal amount of practice, you are more than prepared for this role. You are going to dazzle the entire theatre with your brilliance."

Christine emerged from the screen with a light blush still permeating her features at Erik's effusive praise. Erik, though, did not notice as his eyes were too busy devouring the sight of her. She was wearing a white, off-the-shoulder peasant blouse that left her shoulders and décolletage bare, with a black corseted top over it that accented her curves and a red, frilled flamenco skirt.

Christine smiled at the ravenous look in his eyes, giving a little twirl for his benefit and enjoying the feel of the heavy skirt flying up around her. Erik's hands clenched beside him in response, as if he were restraining himself from reaching out for her. Christine resisted the urge to roll her eyes, wondering when he would come to realize that such restraint was no longer necessary. Without warning, she reached up to wrap her arms around Erik's neck and pull her to him for a kiss.

After the initial surprised pause that Christine had come to expect from him, he responded eagerly, allowing his cold, graceful hands to trail gently across her shoulders and collarbone. Christine shivered slightly at the strange sensation of chill and heat that his touch evoked in her and had to force herself to reluctantly pull away.

Turning from Erik with a seductive wink, she grabbed the red prop flower sitting on her dresser and placed it down the front of her top until it was nestled in her cleavage in preparation for her first scene.

"See you after the show, V!"

Erik tried for an encouraging smile, but his lingering hormones gave it a wicked edge. "_Bon cha_-" his words were cut off as Christine suddenly lunged for him and clamped a hand over his mouth.

"Don't you dare, foolish man! No matter what language you say it in, it's still bad luck to wish a performer luck before a show!"

Erik pressed a gentle kiss to her palm before prying her hand away from his face and giving her an indulgent smile. "My deepest apologies, _ange_. In that case, I believe the customary sentiment is 'break a leg'?"

"Much better." With one last kiss, Christine quickly sped off to await her cue backstage. Erik climbed effortlessly back into the rafters and followed after her silently.

He had just discovered a spot in the rafters where he could watch Christine backstage while still being able to see the performance (albeit from a very poor angle) when the feel of his cell phone vibrating in his pocket distracted his attention. He knew without looking who it would be, as only one person ever bothered to call him.

"Yes, Daroga?" he asked tonelessly, flipping the phone open and holding it to his ear.

"Erik, you can't possibly get the full effect of the show with such a poor vantage point."

Erik blinked in surprise, his gaze instantly straying to the audience as he searched for a sign of the man. He finally spied him in the third row, smiling and waving to Erik's silhouetted figure.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Christine invited me, of course."

"Did she?" Erik asked, startled. He hadn't been aware that the two had any further correspondence besides their two visits.

"Yes, and I've just run into her father, as chance would have it! Which works out rather well for you, actually, as I have agreed to stand in as his bodyguard for the evening, which therefore frees up Frank to watch out for Christine backstage. In which case, you are free to find yourself a better roost up in the rafters or, heaven forbid, actually come down here and join me in the seat I've saved for you."

Erik glanced backstage to affirm Nadir's statement, seeing a dark-headed, burly man standing unobtrusively in the corner near Christine.

"I appreciate the offer, Daroga, but I'm perfectly comfortable up here out of the public view."

"I rather thought you might say that," Nadir responded with a sigh, reaching to remove the program he had placed in the seat beside him to save it.

Erik hung up without bothering to say goodbye and, with a smile of gratitude at Nadir's thoughtfulness (which he only felt safe in expressing as the man was too far away to actually see it), he stood and began maneuvering his way through the rafters to his usual spot for surveying the stage.

He then waited patiently for the show to begin, sucking in an excited breath as the lights dimmed and the orchestra struck up the prelude. He was, of course, quite familiar with the production after having attended rehearsals every day for the past several weeks. But there was something about the atmosphere of a theatre on opening night, with the auditorium full and all the performers in costume, that managed to keep him riveted despite his familiarity. Or perhaps it was his excitement over getting to see Christine perform in front of a crowd.

He watched the first few acts calmly and with a critical eye, but when Christine finally took the stage he couldn't keep himself from leaning forward eagerly and watching in rapt attention as she began to perform Habanera. Her voice glided across the song with a deceptive effortlessness that belied the hours of work she had put into perfecting it under Erik's tutelage. Her powerful stage presence showed none of the nerves she had confessed to in her dressing room.

On that stage, she was every inch the confident seductress, and Erik was a hopeless victim to all of her charms. Every word of love she sang in his native language, every coy glance or flirtatious touch she gave to her admirers was a jet of fire through his veins. When it got to the scene where Carmen's character tries to seduce Don José into letting her free, the only thing that allowed him to stay in his place instead of jumping down to the stage and ripping his Christine away from that other boy was the knowledge that this was all fake. And the fact that the boy playing Don José was openly homosexual certainly didn't hurt. Even these reassurances almost weren't enough in act two when Christine essentially had to give the boy a lap dance. He then distracted himself by imagining what it would be like for _him _to be in that chair, getting to watch and touch her while she danced like that. The small voice in the back of his head that whispered he might not have to settle for just imagining sent an electric thrill through his entire body.

After intermission, though, the plot points of act three and four lead his brain away from lustful thoughts into far less pleasant contemplations. This was the part of the opera where Carmen grew tired of her lover and scorned him for the attentions of other men. Erik had overheard Christine and Meg discussing past relationships on several occasions, and he knew that Christine had a history of starting a relationship quite happily and enthusiastically and then losing interest within a matter of months, and a part of him was terrified that this would happen with him. He hardly knew what he would do if that ever happened. The mere thought of losing the bliss he had finally gained was a crippling blow to his heart. He didn't know whether he would try to stay on as her bodyguard, just to remain in her presence and pine away for the love he had once possessed, or whether he would react as Don José does in the finale of the opera and try some desperate measure to force her to come back to him.

For now, though, he tried to be content in the knowledge that Christine had professed herself as his, and to trust that she would not be cruel enough to do such a thing if she believed her affections to be transient. He forced his thoughts to stop straying into the darkest recesses of his mind and instead made himself focus entirely on the opera and Christine's performance, which was just as dazzling as he had assured her it would be. Truly, his beloved was made to be on the stage.

Christine hurried off the stage to the sound of uproarious cheering, her face flushed with pleasure and adrenaline pumping through her veins. She was stopped several times to receive praise and accolades from her peers, but finally managed to make it into the haven of her dressing room. A cursory glance revealed no sign of her bodyguard, but the long-stemmed, blood red rose that lay on her vanity showed that he was somewhere nearby.

Christine smiled, holding the rose to her face to inhale its sweet fragrance and running her fingers over the black silk ribbon that he had tied around the stem.

"So does this mean you approve, V? Did I do your teachings justice?"

"You were divine, Christine," Erik's silky tenor proclaimed as he melted out of the shadows in the corner of the room. "You surpassed my every expectation of you."

The pleasure of his praises flowed warmly through her, causing her face to flush almost as red as the rose she still cradled in her grasp, while all the cheers of the crowd and the glowing compliments she had received had inspired nothing but bright smiles. It was _his _opinion that truly mattered to her, this genius musician who had worked tirelessly for weeks to polish and strengthen her voice. And to hear such heartfelt compliments coming from the mouth that had provided her with nothing but reserved encouragements throughout the duration of their lessons was perhaps more gratifying than the standing ovation she had received from the full auditorium during curtain call.

Instead of professing all of this to him, though, she merely asked playfully, "So does this mean you _don't_ have an entire binder full of notes on things we have to work on tomorrow before the next performance?"

Erik smirked. "Come now, I never said _that_. No matter how brilliant a performance, there are always improvements to be made."

Christine let out a theatrical groan and collapsed against him, causing him to shoot his arms out to wrap around her waist and support her before she fell. "Am I ever going to be able to please you?" she asked.

Erik gulped, the way she nuzzled her face into his chest and trailed her hands down his sides to rest on his beltline leading him to believe that she was no longer talking about opera. He endeavored to keep his voice steady, though, as he truthfully replied, "You please me every moment I am with you, _ange_. More than you could possibly know."

Christine stilled, keeping her face buried in Erik's chest to hide her surprised expression. Their new relationship was proving to be quite confusing/ as Erik alternated between behaving like a timid schoolboy afraid to even hold her hand and a perfect, romantic gentleman. Most of the time, she felt perfectly confident and sexy around him. She enjoyed the obvious strength of his reactions to her, how the slightest of touches could leave him trembling, and the way he would look at her sometimes as if he could barely even believe that she existed. However, in times like this she felt the balance of power shifting and found herself to be the one totally flustered as she was confronted with such eloquent declarations of affection. She was discovering that statements that she would have found melodramatic and contrived from any other man she had dated seemed quite sincere and striking when delivered with Erik's silken voice and powerful golden gaze.

Pressing a kiss to his chest in response to his admission, Christine pulled back and smiled at Erik, hoping that her eyes would express any emotions that she could not bring herself to vocalize. For all that she was by far the more experienced in relationships, she was the one who had trouble voicing any deeper feelings. With past boyfriends, she had always endeavored to keep things light and happy and playful, and she had tended to end things as soon as her partner tried to develop anything past that. This was the first time she found herself actually having any deeper emotions to express, and she suddenly realized that she didn't have the slightest clue how to begin.

Instead, she just kissed her bodyguard deeply in the hopes that it would distract him and pulled away with a smile. "I'd better hurry up and get changed. Daddy will be expecting us to go out to dinner with him and whoever else he invited along."

Erik nodded his acquiescence, slowly dropping his arms from her waist and wondering idly when it would start getting easier to let her go. He waited patiently for her to finish changing, idly scanning the décor of the dressing room and looking anywhere but at the screen which Christine was currently disrobing behind.

"Oh, crap!"

Her sudden exclamation had his eyes zeroing back in on the silhouette of her form that was visible through the thin fabric.

"Everything alright?"

"I just remembered that I haven't told Meg or Daddy yet that you and I are dating! Both of them are going to kill me for springing the news on them like this!"

Erik digested this information silently for a moment, unsure whether or not he should read anything into the fact that she hadn't thought to inform her father or best friend about her new relationship. Then again, considering this was only the second day of said relationship, he supposed that perhaps there was nothing too worrisome about that fact.

"Would it perhaps be helpful if we kept that new development to ourselves tonight? That way you could inform them both in private at a later time and in a manner they would find more acceptable?" he asked, keeping his voice calm even as he questioned how his fragile confidence would take it if she accepted his offer.

Christine knew him too well, however, to be fooled by his apparent ease. "That would be extremely helpful, actually. However, I will only accept your proposition so long as you swear to read nothing into it and know that I am very excited to tell everyone that we're together now. I just need to do it in the right setting. It's pretty rare for me to have serious relationships instead of just casually dating someone, so no doubt everyone will consider it a big deal. Meg, especially, will be pissed that I didn't make it a point to tell her privately.

"I shall agree to your terms, mademoiselle," he declared solemnly. Her categorization of their relationship as 'serious' set his mind at ease, and he couldn't help his big grin as she emerged from behind the screen in a little black dress and without her wig or contacts, blue eyes smiling up at him and blonde hair tumbling down her shoulders in artful disarray.

"Ah, there's my Scandinavian beauty!" he proclaimed in a sudden show of confidence, brushing a lock of hair out of her face and pressing a kiss to her lips. "You make a fetching gypsy girl, but I far prefer this."

Christine grinned at his compliment. Deciding to test her luck with Erik's uncharacteristic boldness, she grabbed his hand from her cheek and used it to tug him out of the dressing room without asking.

Erik felt his pulse speeding up and his face burning as he was thrust into the raucous crowd of people backstage. One glance beside him, though, at Christine's contented face as she disregarded all of the curious stares he was drawing had him gritting his teeth and bearing his anxiety in silence. If he was going to be with Christine, he was going to have to learn to tolerate crowds and at least pretend to be a normal human being. He wouldn't lurk in the shadows when she seemed so insistent on having him right there beside her.

They managed to make it out of the theatre, and Erik felt his panic and claustrophobia recede slightly as he emerged into the cold night air. Christine paused on the steps outside to glance around for a moment, before changing direction and tugging him towards where her father and Nadir were standing.

"There you are, princess!" Gustave exclaimed, pulling his daughter into an enthusiastic embrace. "You were wonderful tonight! I've never heard you sing more beautifully."

Christine beamed and pressed a kiss to his bearded cheek. "Thanks, Daddy. But you say that every time you hear me sing."

"Allow an unbiased observer to second his statement, then," Nadir chimed in. "You were quite stunning tonight."

"Stop it, you guys! My face already hurts from smiling so much!" she exclaimed, though the grin never faded from her expression as she released her father and moved to hug Nadir. "Are you joining us for dinner tonight?"

"I would be delighted to accompany you, so long as you can convince Erik to accept my odious presence for the night," he declared, shooting a sidelong glance to his friend.

Christine waved her hand unconcernedly. "Erik knows that this is my celebration dinner, and he wouldn't dream of being rude to any guests I saw fit to invite," she said pointedly, turning to wink at her bodyguard. Erik was tempted to wink back, but managed to keep his imposing scowl in place. "Speaking of guests, where are Meg and Danny?"

"They're still in the process of getting changed, I suppose," Gustave answered. "They're meeting us at the house for dinner, along with Meg's mother."

"Great! Can we head on, then? I'm starving."

"Not quite. I have a surprise for you first," Gustave announced, an impish twinkle in his bright blue eyes as he smiled at his daughter. "Guess who I happened to run into in town today?"

"Who?"

Gustave stepped to the side silently to make room as a man who had been standing unobtrusively near their group now turned and joined them. Christine studied him curiously for a moment, taking in the broad, muscular physique encased in an expensive suit and the tan skin and tawny hair that fell perfectly in place to frame a chiseled, handsome face. It wasn't until she took in the laughing brown eyes and the charming, boyish grin, though, that recognition suddenly shot through her brain.

"Raoul?"

A/N Well I hope this will serve to answer the questions a few of you have been posing in reviews over Raoul's involvement in my story. So, tell me, are we pleased? Furious? Excited? Let me know! Reviews are love.


	27. Chapter 27

"Raoul?!"

The man said nothing in response, but the beaming grin he gave her was enough, and Christine launched herself into his arms.

Raoul laughed and swept her up in the hug until her feet left the ground. "It's good to see you, too, Little Lotte!"

Nadir glanced from the ecstatic pair to the man standing behind them, noting the absolutely murderous expression on Erik's face, his yellow eyes flashing in rage and hands clenched tightly by his sides.

"I can't believe it!" Christine declared as soon as Raoul had released her and she pulled away. "What's it been… Ten years? What are you even doing here?"

"I came to see you perform, of course. You were incredible, Chrissy! I always said you were made for the stage." He made this statement with such pride, as if he were in some way responsible for her success that night. The pleased tone had Erik clenching his fists even tighter, his hands itching to go for his Punjab lasso.

Christine still had yet to break eye contact with Raoul, and so was completely unaware of Erik's sudden fury. Indeed, it seemed that Nadir was the only person in the group who had noticed his mood.

"But how did you know I'd be performing here? Last I heard, you were living in California with your brother."

"My brother just opened up a new branch of our company in your city, and he sent me down here to oversee it. I turned on the news the other day and saw all these stories about your father and that Nathaniel Hawkes trial, and when I found out he was here I had to go look him up."

Christine blanched slightly at the mention of the trial and quickly changed the subject. "You're working for Philippe now?"

"Yeah. I just graduated from business school last spring."

"What, you? A reputable businessman? You can't be serious! I thought you were going to be an adventurer, a world traveler!"

Raoul smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess not all of us had what it took to follow our childhood dreams."

Christine returned his smile sympathetically. "But I'm being terribly rude, aren't I? Raoul, this is Erik." She turned her smiling face towards the man as she introduced him, but Erik's baleful look didn't seem to penetrate through her excitement.

"Yes, Nadir told me a bit about him while we were waiting on you to get changed. So you have a bodyguard, now? Quite the little diva."

Christine giggled and rolled her eyes at him before turning back to Erik. "Erik, this is Raoul, my childhood friend."

"Childhood sweetheart," Raoul amended, winking at Christine. "She was my first kiss."

"I hardly think it counts as such when you're eight," Christine retorted.

"Don't let her downplay it, gentlemen. It was quite the romantic production! I had just given her my juice box in a show of selfless gallantry, and she was so overcome with gratitude that she kissed me."

Erik felt sick to his stomach. Jealousy was not an emotion that was foreign to him. Indeed, he had spent most of his life subjected to bitter envy as he watched the rest of the world enjoy a happiness that his face had denied him. At last, though, he had achieved that long-coveted happiness, and now he found himself suddenly faced with the prospect of having it snatched away from him. He had never before considered how jealousy felt for those who actually possessed something to be coveted, but was now given a painful recognition as he watched Christine's interactions with this new interloper.

Every smile that passed between his beloved and this golden Adonis was like a punch to the gut. Every muscle in his body twitched with a desire for violence, but he forced himself to restrain for fear of upsetting Christine. After all, had he not vowed to strive to be a normal man for her? And a normal man shouldn't have a voice whispering at the recesses of his mind for him to strangle some man he'd never met simply because he had the audacity to smile at his angel.

Christine glanced up at her bodyguard, finally noticing that his tense silence might have stemmed from something stronger than just an apprehension of crowds. Eager to get Erik alone so she could talk to him and calm him down, she turned to her father.

"So, you said dinner was at our house, right? How about we head on down and meet up there so Meg and Danny can join us? Also so we can eat. I'm seriously starving."

"Of course, Princess. Care to ride with me?"

"Nah, Erik can drive us so you don't have to worry about taking us home." She smiled at everyone as she threaded her arm through Erik's and lead him towards the parking lot. He said nothing while he settled himself in the car and pulled onto the street, waiting until he had Christine safely by his side and out of sight of that boy before he trusted himself to speak.

"So how did you two meet?" he asked in a carefully neutral voice.

Christine eyed him worriedly, but kept her suspicions to herself for the time being and responded calmly, "We met at a resort in Martha's Vineyard. Dad used to work there every summer as a violinist while he was putting himself through law school, and Raoul's family took an annual vacation there. He rescued my favorite scarf from being lost in the ocean one day and from that became my playmate every summer for the next nine years."

Erik nodded, his already thin lips drawn so tight that they seemed to disappear entirely. "And you and he…" He trailed off, letting his question hang in the air.

"Oh, Erik, we were both so young back then. We'd barely even started to hit puberty. When he says we were childhood sweethearts, he means it totally innocently." She placed a comforting hand on his tense shoulder. "I have a lot of great memories with Raoul, and I'm really happy to see him again, but it's not as if I'm being reunited with some lost love, V."

Erik silently mulled over her statements for a few minutes before quietly venturing, "He's very handsome."

"You think so?" Christine asked, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe _I _should be the one worrying over here."

Erik tried to hang on to his anger and jealousy, but he felt himself disarmed by her humor, and the glare he shot her held none of the venom he'd intended.

"Don't think I can't see that grin you're trying to fight down, oh fearsome Angel of Death," Christine teased, leaning over to plant a kiss to his jaw.

Erik reached a hand out in response and placed it on Christine's knee, left bare as the dress she wore rode up to mid-thigh when she sat. "Tell me more about your father's music," he requested, desperate to change the subject. "You'd mentioned before that he played the violin, but you've never really talked about it. I had assumed it was just a hobby."

"Oh, no, music is Dad's real passion. If anything, it's practicing law that he sees as a hobby. He's been playing since he was six, and he's the most amazing violinist I've ever heard. Better than you even, I'd wager, though his genius is confined to only one instrument."

Erik arched a brow at this comment. He never bragged about his musical prowess to anyone, but he knew he was damn good. "So if he's so talented, why didn't he choose to make a career with his music?"

"He did, for a while. He and my mother were both members of the Royal Swedish Opera House in Stockholm."

"Oh." Erik squeezed her knee sympathetically. "He quit after your mother died?" he asked softly.

"Actually, no," she corrected. "I think he wanted to, but he'd just been handed a newborn baby with no other parent there to support it. His job was stable and it paid decently well, so he had to keep it. He didn't decide to move away and get a law degree until I was five."

"What spurred his decision?"

"My grandparents died. They were murdered during a botched burglary attempt in their home."

Erik winced and glanced concernedly at her face to gauge her emotions, but, as usual, she seemed perfectly composed.

"The police managed to catch the man who did it, and it seemed like it was going to be a really straight-forward trial, but the guy's attorney somehow managed to get the case thrown out on a technicality. Dad was totally furious at the legal system for allowing something like that to happen, and he decided that he was going to do something about it. We moved to America right after the funeral. Dad said the move was for practical reasons, but I'm pretty sure he just wanted to escape all the memories."

Erik tried to imagine what it would be like to lose three people you dearly loved all in the space of five years, but he felt his brain couldn't truly comprehend those emotions. He was accustomed to loneliness and deprivation, not loss.

"When we ended up here, Dad was barely fluent in English and I didn't speak a word of it, and all of our savings were going towards his tuition. We lived in a tiny apartment and ate really cheap soup, and any time Dad wasn't in class or studying, he was working whatever gigs he could pull in to make us some money. Even through all of that, though, he was always so happy and upbeat. It honestly didn't even click with me how stressful that time must have been for him until years later when he'd already made a career for himself."

"You and your father are quite alike in a lot of ways," Erik remarked quietly.

"In that we're both obnoxiously optimistic, you mean?" Christine teased.

"Yes, actually. It's a bit troublesome, really. You make it so difficult to be dark and brooding around you."

"And we all know how important it is for you to be dark and brooding, V."

"Indeed! You are endangering my persona as the deadly phantom!"

Christine laughed as Erik pulled the car into her father's long driveway. "I can't help it if I'm so unbearably charming that I'm causing you to ruin all of your street cred, darling." She fluttered her eyelashes at him as she linked her arm through his and lead him up the walk to the front door.

Erik just shook his head in mock exasperation as he opened the door for them to enter through.

"Hello, again!" Christine called cheerfully, making it almost into the living room before her progress was halted by Sarge's enthusiastic greeting. Erik stood behind her, surveying the room's inhabitants, which included everyone they had just left outside of the theater as well as Meg, Danny, and an older woman he had never met before, whom he presumed to be Meg's mother.

"It's good to see you again, Christine. You sang beautifully tonight."

Christine smiled warmly at Mrs. Giry, abandoning her scratching of Sarge's ears to go and embrace the woman.

"Your voice has greatly improved since I last heard you perform," the older woman added in a warm, yet reserved tone. "And your French pronunciations were impeccable."

Christine smiled and ducked her head at the praise, sparing a playful glance at Erik upon receiving the compliment to her accent. The native-born Frenchman had been quite the tyrant about correcting every pronunciation in her lyrics and dialogue, and she was glad to know that her hard work had been noticed. Though Annette herself was American, her husband of ten years (before he ran away with a younger woman and left Annette to raise Meg on her own) had been a Frenchman, and she had enough experience with the language from her time with him to be able to pick up on subtle distinctions that most others had probably missed.

"Thanks, Mrs. Giry. I had a lot of help in both those regards," she said, inclining her head towards Erik. "Speaking of, you've not yet been introduced to my bodyguard. Erik, this is Mrs. Giry, Meg's mother."

Erik studied the woman warily, trying to decipher how he was expected to greet her. Introductions were a source of anxiety for him as most involved some sort of physical contact which, he had learned, most people had no desire to receive from him. Mrs. Giry, though, merely gave him a perfunctory smile and held her hand out calmly.

"_Enchanté_," he said as he shook her hand, feigning a confidence he did not feel.

"Ah, a Frenchman," Mrs. Giry remarked upon hearing him speak. "That explains it."

Erik smiled, his confidence bolstered when she did not rip her hand away in shock or disgust upon feeling his corpse-like appendage. "Your daughter danced beautifully tonight," he stated, turning to smile at Meg even though the comment was addressed to her mother. "She is by far the best ballerina at the school."

Mrs. Giry turned to gift her daughter with a slight smile. "As well she should be. She's been stealing my old tutus and jetéing around the house for as long as I can remember."

"If you would all care to accompany me to the dining room, we can continue to lavish praise on these lovely ladies over dinner," Gustave interrupted. Everyone followed obediently enough, sitting down to enjoy the pork roast that had been provided for them.

Erik sat himself between Nadir and Christine, with Gustave taking the head of the table beside Christine and Mrs. Giry seated at the opposite end. Meg and Danny sat in front of him and Nadir, leaving, much to his consternation, the seat in front of Christine to be filled by Raoul.

"So you're a ballet instructor at the Populaire, correct?" Nadir addressed Mrs. Giry, continuing the conversation from a moment ago.

"I am."

"It's no wonder your daughter is so brilliant, then. I loved the dance they performed in between acts three and four. It's a shame the dancers weren't more heavily featured in the opera itself, though."

"The school usually puts on a ballet second semester to give us a better chance to perform," Meg interceded.

"It's a smaller production, though, because by then everyone's focused on their individual recitals and the senior showcase," Christine added.

"Oh, God… Don't remind me about the showcase," Danny moaned, causing Meg to laugh and pat his back comfortingly.

"Poor boy gets terrible stage fright when he has to actually be visible on stage instead of hiding out in the orchestra pit."

Erik was distracted from the conversation as he felt his phone vibrate within his pocket. His brow furrowed in confusion, seeing as the only person who ever contacted him through it was sitting directly beside him. He discreetly pulled the device out and glanced at it under the table.

_Nadir Khan: Is there any particular reason Christine keeps introducing you to everyone as her bodyguard, not her boyfriend?_

Erik felt his gut clench slightly at this question. Despite Christine's perfectly rational explanation as to why she wasn't publicly claiming him tonight, part of Erik couldn't shake the feeling that she was simply too ashamed to admit the connection to her friends and family. Shooting a glare at his nosy friend, he quickly typed out a reply.

_Erik Draven: She wants to tell her father about us in a private setting._

_ Nadir Khan: Oh. Good. I thought you may have been hiding it from him so that he didn't fire you as her bodyguard once he found out._

Erik blinked. That thought honestly hadn't even occurred to him. Would Gustave deem it fit to replace him once he found out about their relationship? It's not as if he desperately needed the money from the job, but he sometimes worried that Christine would lose interest in him once his presence in her life became no longer a necessity. He tried to shake these melancholy thoughts from his head and returned his attention back to the conversation going on at the table.

"So, let me get this straight," Raoul was saying. "At this table, we have a lead soprano, a prima ballerina, a first-chair French horn player, the head ballet instructor at an opera house, and a world-class violinist? Is anyone else feeling entirely inadequate?" he asked, turning a teasing smile to Erik and Nadir.

"Oh, don't look to Erik for solidarity," Christine declared, grinning proudly at her bodyguard. "He's the most talented of all of us."

"I'm afraid it's true," Nadir agreed. "Erik is a virtuoso on basically every instrument imaginable. If it makes you feel better, though, _I _can't carry a tune to save my life."

"You know, Christine's made several mentions to your musical prowess, now, and it's got me curious. Would you care to give us a demonstration after dinner?" Gustave asked kindly.

Erik felt his face flush nervously as all eyes at the table turned to him in interest. "I, uh… I'd be far more interested in hearing you perform, monsieur. Christine has already informed me on the way over here that you're a far better violinist than I."

"A very diplomatic answer," Gustave said with a wry grin. "Very well, I'd be happy to show off a bit. It's so rare that I get to play to an audience these days. But I see no reason why you can't give us a show as well. If you don't wish to compete with me on the violin, would you be averse to playing another instrument? I believe I have a guitar hidden away somewhere in a closet from when Christine decided she wanted to try to learn."

"You play the guitar?" Erik asked, glancing over at Christine curiously.

"Not a bit," was her sheepish reply. "I lost interest within the first two weeks of lessons and decided to just stick with singing."

"Why am I not surprised…" he muttered teasingly.

Christine swatted his arm. "Shush, you. Don't think you can mock me as a way to avoid answering the question. C'mon, V, will you grace us with a demonstration of your brilliance?"

Erik once again discovered that it was impossible to deny her anything when she gave him that look. "Flattery and those damn big blue eyes of yours will get you everywhere, my dear," he acceded quietly. For a moment he cursed himself for his statement, not actually having meant to vocalize the bit about the eyes, but he relaxed when it was met with nothing but good-natured laughter and a fervent, 'Here, here!' from her father.

The rest of the dinner was spent in amicable conversation, and as soon as everyone finished the German chocolate cake that had been prepared for dessert, they migrated back into the living room and made themselves comfortable while Gustave went to fetch his violin. He returned with the well-worn but immaculately cared-for instrument, and Erik felt his respect for the man grow as he watched the way he reverently rosined his bow before placing the body comfortably under his chin, as if it was made to be there.

He started off with a simple, jaunty folk song to warm his fingers up, and then suddenly he was off, his fingers flying across the neck and his arm sawing away fiercely as he played _Summer _from Antonio Vivaldi's Four Seasons suite. Erik watched in amazement, silently admitting to himself that Christine had been correct in her assessment that Gustave far out-matched him on his chosen instrument. He played several songs for his guests, picking an interesting assortment of classical pieces and bluegrass and folk songs, including a modified rendition of _Devil Went Down to Georgia_, and by the time he finished, the room was filled with raucous applause. Gustave beamed a smile at his guests and bowed graciously, looking at Erik and gesturing to the guitar case he had laid at the front of the room.

Erik nodded silently and walked to take his place in front of the small crowd. He used the time it took him to tune the guitar to steady his nerves, his eyes determinedly seeking out Christine's once he was finished so that he could pretend it was only her he performed to. As arrogant as he was about his musical prowess, his time in the traveling fair still left him with an instinctive distaste of being in front of a crowd. Christine gifted him with a brilliant smile as he met her gaze, and he answered it with a slight quirking of his lips before his fingers settled comfortably on the fret board and he began to play a soft, melancholy piece that gradually increased in volume and intensity as it progressed. The song was full of melodic flourishes and intricate finger-picking patterns that had his audience riveted, all of them staring in awe at his hands as they moved effortlessly over his instrument. Once it was finished, he segued into a fiery Spanish piece that had everyone in the room clapping along with its energetic melody, then finished his impromptu concert with the sweet strains of Lindsey Buckingham's instrumental _Stephanie, _which he knew to be a favorite of Christine's.

When he finished, he was pleased to look up and see the entire room staring at him in open amazement, seemingly stunned into silence until Christine's enthusiastic applause and cheers prompted them to join in. Erik bowed his head and fought down a smile. He had forgotten how good it felt to receive praise and recognition for his music.

"Christine didn't even begin to do you justice in her descriptions," Gustave remarked, a tone of reverence in his usually jovial voice as he rose to stand beside Erik. "And trust me, she was quite effusive."

"I'm glad I did not disappoint your expectations, then, monsieur," was Erik's quiet reply.

"Now, do you think our dinner companions would perhaps tolerate our egos for a bit longer? It's been too long since I've had a chance to perform with anyone, and I was wondering if you would be kind enough to humor an old man on this regard?"

"As if any of us would complain about our free concert!" Raoul interjected, his statement being instantly affirmed by all of the other spectators.

Erik merely nodded his acquiescence, fighting down his irrational irritation at the boy for having dared to speak to him, and quietly swapped a few words with Gustave before both men picked up their instruments. The opening strains of _Habanera _were coaxed languorously from Gustave's violin, accompanied by a few supporting chords by Erik's guitar, before both men launched in earnest into the song, picking it up to an energetic, almost frenzied pace.

Everyone laughed at their song choice, and Christine suddenly found herself being pulled up by an enthusiastic Meg Giry.

"Come on, Carmen. You lost your chance to dance during the show today. Why not make up for it now?"

Christine laughed, trying to keep up and mirror her as the energetic girl began to perform a modified version of the dance from the tavern scene.

Erik's fingers nearly fumbled over the strings as he glanced over and noticed the appreciative way in which Nadir, Danny, and Raoul were watching the girls. He had to admit that they were both quite riveting as they twirled and danced the sultry routine, adding in improvised steps and modifications whenever they felt so inclined, and he could excuse Danny for watching, as the redhead's eyes stayed solely glued to his fiancé. But seeing the undisguised appreciation in Raoul's gaze as he watched Christine dance had Erik fighting back a growl. He forced his eyes to focus anywhere but on the newcomer, determined not to let his irrational jealousy ruin what was otherwise proving to be a surprisingly enjoyable night. Instead, he let himself focus on Christine's dancing and tried not to think about who else might be watching.

The song ended amongst much laughter and applause from everyone, and Erik felt an unfamiliar sense of warmth and acceptance and Gustave stepped over and heartily shook his hand. His good mood was deflated slightly as Raoul spoke up.

"So you can sing _and _dance? My God, Christine, when did you get so talented?"

Christine laughed. "After years and years of practice, unfortunately. The dancing certainly didn't come naturally. Though actually, for this production I was supposed to be dancing with Meg. I was just the understudy for Carmen, and it's only through a weird stroke of luck that I got to perform at all. If it hadn't been for Erik I seriously doubt I would have been ready," she added, smiling gratefully at the stone-faced man.

"Erik?" Raoul turned to study him with good-natured curiosity. "So you're her bodyguard as well as her vocal coach? Christine was lucky to find someone with so much talent." He then turned his gaze back to her, though his comment was still directed at Erik. "She sang like an angel tonight."

Christine blushed, darting a nervous glance at Erik that Raoul didn't seem to pick up on, as evidenced by his next request.

"Could you sing something for us, Lotte? One last performance before we all go home?"

"Perhaps a duet?" Nadir suggested, noting the rather venomous look Erik was giving the unsuspecting man. He thought that maybe drawing attention to the two of them together would be a good way to appease Erik.

Christine turned to him with an eager smile on her face. "What do you say, Teach? I've been dying for a chance to sing with you ever since you started my lessons," she confessed, placing her hand on his arm. And just like that, Erik completely forgot about Raoul's presence, his entire focus wrapped up in that simple confession and the hopeful expression on her face. He wordlessly picked the guitar back up and settled himself into a chair.

Christine waited patiently for him to start, expecting him to pick a classical piece that he knew to be in her repertoire, but was surprised when he played the opening chords to the Buckingham Nicks duet _Without You_.

_In my life there's been a few things worth singing about you  
Well I never even dreamed that I'd know you  
Strange are the ways of a very complicated world  
And there you are_

Christine's lilting soprano wrapped effortlessly in harmony around Erik's mesmerizing tenor, and everyone's eyes were glued to the pair in rapt attention as they sang. Erik and Christine took no notice of the spell they were weaving around their audience, though, as their gazes were locked on each other.

_Come to me now and I'll never know another  
You are song for me, melody, ingrained in my soul  
Sing, sing your song  
For my ears, they only hear you  
If I never knew the likes of you,  
Where would I be without you?_

Erik knew that he was revealing more of his emotions in his performance than he probably should, but he could not bring himself to temper the sheer adoration in his voice and gaze. Singing with her was just as amazing as he had always imagined it would be, and the lyrics to the song he had chosen were too close a reflection on his true thoughts for him to distance himself from them.

When the song finally drew to a close, Christine felt as if she had just been released from some kind of spell. She forcibly ripped her eyes away from Erik's, glancing around at their audience to see if anyone else had picked up on the swell of emotions that had passed between herself and Erik as they sang. Everyone seemed to have been too wrapped up in the performance to take much note of the interplay between the performers, though, except for Nadir, who seemed almost on the verge of tears at finally witnessing his best friend so happy, and Gustave, who was eyeing both of them with the calculating gleam in his eyes that Christine recognized from seeing him in court.

She decided it would be best to leave now before her father had a chance to interrogate her further, as she had not yet decided on the best way to reveal to him that she was now dating the man he had employed to guard her. She smiled gratefully at everyone and waited for the applause and accolades to herself and Erik to die down before announcing that she was tired and planned to retire for the night so that she would be rested for the following night's performance.

"Yeah, we should probably head out, too," Meg announced. This stirred everyone into deciding that the night's festivities were over, and there was a sudden buzz of activity as everyone ambled around gathering their things and saying their farewells.

"It was wonderful to see you again, Lotte," Raoul said, giving her a charming smile as she made her way over to him.

Christine could feel Erik's gaze boring into her back, but she tried to ignore it as she pulled him in for a tight hug. She had missed her childhood friend, after all, and she wasn't going to let Erik's jealousy ruin her reunion. They left each other with the promise that he would come visit very soon, and Christine moved on to the last person she had to say goodbye to, her father.

"You are so much like your mother," he murmured as he pulled her in for a hug. "You sang beautifully tonight."

Christine smiled sadly and squeezed his hand as she pulled away from him. "Thanks, Daddy."

Gustave gave one last searching glance between his daughter and her bodyguard before turning to say goodbye to his other guests.

Erik and Christine walked out to Erik's car silently, and as soon as Christine settled herself in the soft leather seats, she felt all of the adrenaline and energy from the evening drain away, leaving her peaceful and lethargic as Erik drove them back to the apartment.

Erik smiled to himself as he felt her curl up to his side as best she could in their bucket seats and lay her head against his shoulder.

"You know," he spoke quietly, "that's the first time I've ever actually enjoyed myself at a social gathering. I… I almost felt normal." He glanced down to see her smiling to herself with her eyes closed, on the verge of sleep. "Thank you."

Christine responded by sitting up and placing a soft kiss on his jawline before settling back into her previous position, and Erik drove the rest of the way home with her asleep on his shoulder.

* * *

A/N: Phew! Well, that all worked out better than you guys were expecting, I bet. For now, at least… *evil laughter* Anyway, since there are a lot of song descriptions in this chapter, I've posted links for some of the songs I mentioned down below. Just take out the spaces and add in a dot com that fanfic seemed to deem fit to edit out between every "youtube" and "watch" and you should be able to follow them. Provided any of you care enough to go to all of that work. There are some good songs, though!

youtube watch?v = N9x0NxQQVp0

youtube watch?v = -V1gGXyPSAQ

youtube watch?v=4T0V 0w6fzUM& list=PLF98FF208DFF8AED7

youtube watch ? v=0rh7OBYI7uo

youtube watch?v =CYQuUhMjw64

youtube watch?v = a0oCtFqE5KE


	28. Chapter 28

Hey, all! As usual, terribly sorry about the long wait for an update! This time I do have a valid excuse, though! I've been backpacking through Australia and New Zealand, so I've been a bit busy. In other news, I went sea kayaking, surfing, bungy jumping, scuba diving at the great barrier reef, and I held a koala! So… Forgiven?

Accept this next chapter as a bit of a peace offering, if you will. We're finally getting to the good stuff. That being said, this is not for innocent eyes.

* * *

Christine was seated on her couch studying for a music theory exam with Erik watching the news beside her and absently massaging her feet and calves that were stretched across his lap. Or, more accurately, he pretended to be focused on the news program, while truthfully his every attention was zeroed in on the silken skin he was being allowed, even encouraged, to caress.

It was still such a new concept to him that his touch might be welcome to someone, particularly by the enchanting creature sitting across from him. He was sure to keep his hands below her knees, though, and not allow them to stray up towards the tempting expanse of thighs left bare by her athletic shorts as he had yet to decipher exactly _how _welcome his touch was. In the few days since their encounter on the roof of the opera, they had not progressed past kissing. Erik, in truth, was more than willing to remain at that level indefinitely. Whatever she was willing to give, he was beyond grateful to accept. He had never before imagined that he would have even _this_ much intimacy in his cursed life. However, he couldn't always keep his thoughts from straying outside of the boundaries he had tried to set for them, and sometimes he wondered what would happen if…

"…spoke at a press conference with District Attorney Gustave Daaé on Thursday."

Erik glanced quickly at the television, distracted from his thoughts as he heard the familiar name being spoken in the middle of a news report.

"Despite rumors that Daaé and several others involved in the case have received repeated threats from Hawkes and his associates warning them not to continue, the trial is still set to begin tomorrow. Hawkes will be tried on a number of crimes, including drug trafficking, armed robbery, bribery, first-degree murd-"

Erik lowered the remote from where he had hurriedly clicked off the television, shooting a concerned glance towards Christine. She was staring determinedly at her notes with her jaw clenched tightly shut, but as soon as she heard the show cut off she raised her head and gave him a grateful smile.

"Are you alright, _ange_?"

"I'll be fine. I'm just worried about him…" Setting her notebook on the ground in front of her, she shifted on the couch so that her head was pillowed on his shoulder. Erik once again had to remind himself that it was okay to settle an arm around her comfortingly. "I didn't know Hawkes had been threatening other people on the case," she remarked quietly into his chest.

"The judge who is trying the case is currently a client with my agency, actually," Erik remarked.

"Why is Daddy the only one they ever really mention on the news, then?" she asked, almost petulantly.

He sighed and stroked a hand through her hair. "You know why, Christine. Your father has only been district attorney for about two years, now, and already the crime rates have dropped exponentially. As the figurehead of that 'Take Back Our City' campaign that gained such popularity during the last round of elections, he's become a bit of a local hero."

"Sometimes I wish he'd just stuck with the violin," she murmured in response, giving a half-hearted grin to imbue some levity into the statement. "His job never bothered me before, really, but this Nathaniel Hawkes trial… So many of the witnesses have mysteriously vanished, and I can't stop hearing news reports about all of these 'alleged' threats on him and myself, although no one's seen fit to tell me what they actually are… I just… What if something happens to him?"

"Nothing is going to happen to your father," Erik assured with quiet confidence.

"Well of course you're going to say that," Christine scoffed, though there was no venom in her words.

Erik raised an eyebrow at her. "As the employer of his bodyguard and the designer of the security equipment installed on his property, I feel I am more qualified than most to make that assessment," he declared haughtily.

She couldn't help but let out a laugh at that. "I suppose you are. Sorry, V, I forgot who I was talking to for a minute. Sometimes it's hard to remember that you're technically employed to live with me. Which, now that we're dating, has some weird connotations…"

This time it was Erik who could not reign in his bark of laughter. "Your mind goes to some strange places, _mon ange_."

Christine winked at him and nuzzled further into his chest. Erik responded by bringing an arm up and tracing soothing patterns across her back while his other hand remained buried in her hair.

"So you never really got to go into detail about your opinion of the performance last night," she spoke into his chest. "What did you think?"

Erik pulled his hand away from her momentarily and studied his wrist with interest. "Ah, yes, I believe it has been approximately five minutes of somber, unpleasant conversation. Right on time for a subject change, then."

"You know me so well," Christine replied, caught between sheepish and sarcastic.

"In answer to your abrupt segue, though, I thought it was very good. There were a few sections that I had seen performed better at rehearsals, but overall it was a very smooth first performance. And _you_ were spectacular, _ange_."

She smiled. "Nothing particularly noteworthy? Either good or bad? Lord knows you've seen the show enough times to comment."

Erik averted his eyes, a dark red flush marring the pale marble of his neck and jaw. "Actually, ah, last night was the first time I had seen your performance in its entirety."

"Wait, huh? You were literally at every rehearsal. Were you sleeping up in those vents? For shame, V!"

"I can assure you I do not sleep on the job, mademoiselle," he clipped, jerking his eyes up automatically before remembering himself and lowering them again. "I just... I found some parts of your performance... difficult to watch."

"Difficult?" Christine tilted her head to the side. "In what way?"

"In the sense that I couldn't make myself watch you dancing so suggestively with another man," he admitted reluctantly.

"Aww, V... You know that Andrew has a boyfriend, right? I can assure you that all of our dancing was totally platonic."

Erik shook his head slightly. "I'm aware, ange. That wasn't the point, really. It was just... well, torturous to watch that and wish so desperately to be the one in his place."

"But you could watch last night?" Christine asked quietly, rubbing his arm comfortingly.

Erik covered her hand with his, drawing it to his lips to press a tentative kiss to her palm. "I find it much less torturous now that kissing you is no longer an impossible dream."

Christine stared silently at him after his declaration, and Erik began to worry that he had revealed too much and made her uncomfortable. To his shock, though, instead of pulling away from him awkwardly, Christine crawled across the couch and positioned herself so that she was straddling his lap.

"Is kissing me _all_ you dreamed about doing?" she asked coyly, bringing her lips down to brush lightly against his jaw and throat.

Erik once again felt as if he'd forgotten how to breathe."N-no," he admitted in a gasp. "But it's all I could ever expect from you." He took a deep breath and smiled sadly when she pulled back to look at him and gestured at his mask. "I'm not a normal man, Christine."

Her response was to roll her hips against him, smirking at the hiss it elicited. "No? You certainly feel like a normal man."

"Christine," he murmured, attempting to pull away and talk some sense into her even as a voice in his head screamed at him not to sabotage this. "I don't want you to do something now that you may regret after you… if you ever see-" He was silenced by the girl planting a kiss on his lips.

"Hush, Erik. You know that doesn't matter to me."

"How can you say that for sure if you've never seen me?"

"Well are you offering to show me your face?" she asked, meeting his gaze evenly.

He blanched, a jolt of horror going through him at merely the thought. He dropped his eyes and shook his head meekly. "I—I can't, Christine."

She lifted his chin gently and placed a kiss to the cheekbone of his mask. "Then stop thinking about it. You just told me that you've spent an entire semester fantasizing about this. Can't you just let yourself enjoy it?"

He found himself unable to respond as Christine resumed her previous activities and began trailing open-mouthed kisses down his throat. Her fingers drifted over his shirt and made short work of his buttons, and Erik sat forward obediently so that she could push the fabric away before it impeded her progress. As soon as his shirt was removed, Christine eagerly allowed her mouth and hands to explore the newly-revealed flesh. She slowly kissed a path down the middle of his chest, enjoying the feel of his muscles tensing beneath her ministrations and the low moans escaping from his throat.

Erik bit back a whimper of protest when she sat up suddenly.

"You know, this hardly seems equitable."

"What do you mean?" he panted nervously, worried that she was reconsidering their prior conversation. To his shock and relief, though, she answered his question by giving him a coy smile and grasping with both hands at the hem of her t-shirt.

Erik's breath caught raggedly in his throat as Christine pulled the fabric of her shirt over her head and shook out her hair to escape the collar. He felt pinioned, at once helpless to not embrace her and unworthy to profane her by doing so. As he watched, Christine rolled her shoulders back and reached around deftly to unfasten her bra. It fell to the floor, leaving her full breasts and toned stomach bare.

Desire rolled across Erik's mind and body like a wave, and the tension quickened his breath to shuddering gasps. His hands reached towards her automatically before he caught himself and drew them back, forcibly dragging his eyes up to her face to gauge her reaction. "May I?" he asked, and Christine felt the timid words pulling at her heartstrings.

She grasped his hands and placed them against her hips. "You don't have to ask permission, Erik. Take what you want."

He sat still for a moment, briefly convinced that he was about to wake up to an empty bed, before slowly running his hands over Christine's body. He watched in rapt fascination as her head lolled back in pleasure when his palms cupped her breast. Emboldened by her reaction, he drew his thumbs experimentally over her hardened nipples and was rewarded with a soft moan that brought every muscle in his body to a quivering tension. Unable to resist the temptation, he leaned forward and replaced one of his hands with his mouth, flicking his tongue experimentally and glancing up at Christine to check her response. Part of him was still terrified that he would overstep some unknown boundary and be pushed away, so he was relieved to hear another, deeper moan and feel her fingers digging into his hair. And with that, desire overtook his last strands of restraint and he crushed her mouth to his in a bruising kiss, his hands snaking around to her rear and pulling her firmly against his body.

Christine, pleased by his sudden surge of confidence, pulled away just enough to lower herself onto her back on the couch. Erik watched her actions through heavy-lidded eyes, eagerly acquiescing when she reached up to pull him down on top of her and they resumed their heated kiss. He then began to copy Christine's earlier actions and kissed a slow trail down her neck and along her collarbone until he had once again claimed one of her breasts with his mouth. He shuddered as he felt her start to writhe restlessly beneath him, his hand seeming to move of its own accord down her body and under the waistband of her shorts. He glanced at her face questioningly, but found her eyes to be shut and her mouth partly open with panting. Taking this to be permission enough, he allowed his fingers to delve lower, groaning loudly when he felt the evidence of her arousal.

Christine released a cry when his deft fingers started to move within her, digging her fingernails into his shoulder blades as the pressure began to build inside of her. Erik kept his eyes glued to her face, using her expressions and sounds as a gauge to guide his actions. Rapt with wonder and fastidious in his experimentations, he tried one motion, then another, and felt his pulse race at each sound his discoveries elicited. Christine arched her back and buried her face into his throat to muffle her cries of pleasure as Erik finally settled into an accelerating rhythm and coaxed her into climax.

After a moment, she collapsed bonelessly onto the couch, panting and bringing a hand up to her face as if to try and steady her head. Erik leaned down to kiss her softly, pulling back and surveying her with eyes practically glowing from pride and happiness.

"I thought you were supposed to be totally inexperienced with women, V. Where the hell did you learn to do that?" Christine asked once she had caught her breath somewhat.

Erik chuckled, the low sound causing his chest to rumble pleasantly against Christine's. "I… Um… Honestly?"

"That would be preferable," she said, with a hint of mockery. "C'mon, V," she coaxed when he still seemed hesitant to respond. "Tell me all your secrets."

"Since you insist..." He glanced down shyly. "I may have done some internet research."

"You're kidding!" she exclaimed with a laugh. "What made you decide to do that?"

"Curiosity, mostly. That, and wishful thinking." He gazed down at the girl beneath him with an incredulous, almost worshipful gaze. "I never even dreamed that I would ever be in a position to utilize my knowledge…"

Christine's teasing grin softened at this admission, and she pulled him down for a kiss. "You were an idiot for not thinking that some girl would eventually realize how incredible you are, V."

"Or perhaps I just never imagined I would meet a girl as incredible as you," he murmured.

"You know, you've already gotten me to take my top off. You can lay off the flattery," Christine joked. Her playful grin slipped off her face when Erik's earnest expression did not fade in response.

"I'm sorry, _ange_, but I can't make a joke out of this. You can't even imagine how this feels for me, after thirty-two years of never having a woman even give me a second glance, unless it was to stare at my mask."

Suddenly, Erik felt his chest pressed against Christine's, her fingers tangled in his hair and her lips pressed insistently against his. His body responded instantly, mouth opening to deepen the kiss and hips pushing forward instinctively in search of friction. Christine halted the kiss just as abruptly as she had begun it, though, bringing her hands to rest on the cheekbones of his mask and pulling his face back to meet her gaze.

"Thirty-two years, huh? Guess I've got some time to make up for."

Erik, whose brain was currently operating through a fog of desire more potent than he had ever experienced in his life, blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

She merely grinned and pushed him back so she could sit up.

"Christine? What are you-" he cut off when her lips once again began to trail a path down his abdomen. "W—wait, _ange_," he gasped, reaching down to halt her progress. "I don't want you to feel obligated to do anything to reciprocate. I would never expect y-"

"Erik? Lie down and shut up, please," Christine ordered, smirking and pushing at his chest.

Erik could do nothing but obey her, embarrassed to feel his body begin to tremble as he leaned back slowly and felt Christine resume kissing down his body. She reached the hem of his pants and hooked one finger into the waistband; Erik bit his lip and tipped his head back as unbearable demand swept through his stomach and groin.

Christine smiled and paused for a second, enjoying the force of Erik's reactions. She ran a hand over his quivering stomach muscles, then dropped it lower and undid his belt buckle.

Erik went white-knuckled with anticipation, and his stomach knotted tightly as Christine tugged his pants and boxers down to his hipbones. She dipped her head and unbelievable sensation filled Erik's body while she kissed him open-mouthed and slowly. His head snapped back and his fingers dug into the couch. A moment later, she ran her tongue languorously up his length, and a murmur of ecstasy burst from him.

Christine flushed with warmth, moved herself by Erik's arousal. She repeated the act, and Erik's hands involuntarily grasped her shoulders. His fingers tightened as she touched him again, and this time he groaned aloud.

The sound of Christine's cell phone ringing caused her to freeze. Shooting him an apologetic look, she leaned over quickly to check the caller ID.

Erik glanced over, feeling some of his heady arousal turning to anger when he saw Raoul's name flash across the screen.

"I'll let it go to voicemail," Christine assured quickly, reaching a hand over to decline the call. She turned her attention back to Erik with a smile, but did a double-take and reached to check the phone again as her brain registered the time that had been displayed on the screen. "Ah, shit! Is it really that late? Oh, God, I am _so _sorry, V, but if we don't leave right now I'll be late for the show!"

Erik murmured some kind of affirmation and brought a hand to his head to try and steady some of his dizziness. He then seemed to come back to his senses somewhat and quickly scrambled to fasten his pants, feeling awkward and exposed now that he was no longer incoherent with need.

His frantic motions caught Christine's eye, and she paused in her rush to gather her belongings, feeling a stab of guilt at leaving him so unsatisfied. She stepped over and drew the dazed man in for a slow, sensual kiss. "As soon as we get home, though, I promise that I'm going to finish what I started."

Erik could only nod in acknowledgment, the speech functions of his brain shutting down at the mere thought.

"Now hurry up and put your shirt back on, V. As my vocal teacher, it would be shameful if you were the reason I'm late to my performance."

Erik let out a bark of laughter at that, rising on shaky legs to quickly dress and following the frantic girl out the door.


End file.
